


Stay, Don't Leave

by houdini74



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Didn't Know They Were Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, House Party, M/M, Or at least David didn't know, Slow Burn, There's only One Bed!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houdini74/pseuds/houdini74
Summary: David Rose is sick and tired of everyone thinking that he can’t keep a relationship together. With his mother’s annual summer party looming, a solution presents itself in the form of Patrick Brewer. And even if everything is fake, it might be the best relationship he’s ever had.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some fake dating shenanigans. David is pretty oblivious in this, but this is the same person who didn't know he was on a date with Patrick, so I think it's in character. Did I mention there's only one bed! Title is, of course, from Noah Reid's song Apollo. All the chapters are finished, I'll post one per day.

**Saturday**

“David Rose?” The voice stretches out his name, letting it go with a snap. 

He turns away from the bar to face the lean, blond man in the tight jeans and designer shirt. He looks like he walked into the bar from a fashion shoot, which all things considered, he might have.

“Elliott.” It’s either too soon or too late to have this conversation. Never, the voice inside of him says, that’s a good time to talk to Elliott. His hand tightens around his glass and he downs the last of his vodka and soda.

“Are you here alone?” The man laughs uproariously. “Of course you are, you’ve always been too much for anyone to put up with for long. You know, if you’re looking for a hook-up, I’m not doing anything later, maybe we could…”

“He’s with me.” David doesn’t notice the man in the blue button-down shirt come up behind him until the weight of his arm settles possessively around his shoulders. Elliott stops mid-sentence. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

It’s a good question, one that David is curious to hear the answer to. Being touched so familiarly by a stranger should feel uncomfortable and constricting, but it’s warm, almost cozy. The strange man extends his right hand to Elliott without removing his arm from David’s shoulders. “Patrick. Patrick Brewer.”

God, was this someone he’d met last night? He’d been pretty drunk, but surely he would have remembered who was this cute and also a little presumptuous. He tilts his head, trying to get a better look at Patrick’s face. Up close all he can see is a swatch of chestnut brown hair and a pair of warm brown eyes. 

“Huh.” Elliott looks both of them up and down, a disbelieving look on his face. “This one doesn’t seem like your usual type.”

David shrugs. He doesn’t think Patrick is his usual type either. He doesn’t know what Patrick is. 

“So, maybe I’ll see you this weekend?” Elliott raises an eyebrow as he asks the question. “You and your new boyfriend here?”

“How do you know about this weekend?” His mom insists on launching the summer season with a party every year and the guest list is always somewhat...fluid. Still, he tries his best to keep his exes off the list as best he can.

“Your mom invited me.” Of course she did. Patrick hasn’t moved throughout this conversation. His arm is still slung across David’s shoulders like it belongs there. 

“Yeah, sure, we’ll definitely see you there then.” His voice is false and upbeat. What the fuck is he going to do now? He watches Elliott leave the bar and turns to Patrick, sliding out from under his arm once he’s sure Elliott can’t see them anymore. He’s a couple inches shorter than David and he looks terrifyingly normal. David’s gaze slides down from the chestnut hair and brown eyes, taking in the blue button-down shirt and Levis, lingering greedily on his bare forearms.

“Um...thanks.” Should he be thanking him or should he be demanding Patrick tell him what’s going on?

“No problem.” Patrick’s face is open and transparent. David’s not used to people who telegraph their emotions so clearly. It’s alarming. “I hate guys like that.” He pauses and a worried look crosses his face. “You weren’t waiting for someone, were you? I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

“No, just drinking alone. And it’s not possible for you to make things worse for me.” He takes a half step away, it’s past time he went home.

“Oh. Well...good.” For the first time, Patrick seems flustered. “Not good that things are bad for you, good that I’m not making them worse...can I buy you a drink?”

He considers Patrick’s offer before he nods and gestures to the bartender who pours him another drink and slides a bottle of beer across the bar to Patrick. 

“So, when’s this party that I’m invited to?” Patrick’s eyes are curious and there’s a mocking note to his questions, but David doesn’t think it’s directed at him.

“You don’t...you really don’t have to do that.” Despite his protests, he’s tempted by the idea of having Patrick pretend to be his date for the upcoming party. Still, it’s undoubtedly a bad idea and he can’t ask Patrick to do anything more for him.

“I’d like to.” Patrick tilts his beer bottle towards him before looking down at his hands. “I just moved here and I don’t know anyone.” Patrick picks at the label on his beer bottle. “It’s either your party or watching recorded Blue Jays baseball games that I’ve seen three times.”

“That sounds very dark. But I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“Okay...but here’s the thing. The party isn’t here in Toronto. It’s at my parent’s vacation home a few hours north of here and I’m supposed to be there for a week. So, I really can’t ask you to do that.” Even as hope flickers inside him at the thought of spending this trip with Patrick, he can’t imagine that Patrick will accompany him. Who would agree to go on a week-long trip with a stranger?

He expects Patrick to back down from his proposal. Instead, he looks thoughtful and takes another drink of his beer. “Where, exactly?”

“It’s this awful little town called Schitt’s Creek. We, uh, own the town actually, so my mom holds this party every year.”

Patrick nods, his eyes distant. “I grew up a few hours from there. If you want me to be your date for the week, I’d be happy to go. But it’s your call.”

Who is this guy? He’s met a million guys in a million bars and none of them had ever offered to do anything for him, other than suck him off in the bathroom, maybe, let alone pretend to be his boyfriend for a week. Did Patrick want something from him? Even if it’s just a play for money or drugs, he decides he wants Patrick to come with him, but it doesn’t seem right to hold Patrick to a promise he’s making after a few drinks in a bar. 

“Tell you what.” He picks up Patrick’s phone from the bar and enters his name and number into his contacts. “If you wake up in the morning and you still want to be my date for the week, you can text me and let me know.” He downs the rest of the drink. “Thanks for earlier.” He sets his empty glass on the bar and with one last look at Patrick, he heads for home.

It’s early when he wakes up the next morning, just after nine o’clock. He opens his phone, there’s a single text from an unknown number.

**Patrick:** When do we leave?

It’s unexpected. Both the text itself and the feeling of warmth that blooms inside him when he sees it. Patrick sent the text at 6:23 in the morning, which is entirely too early to be doing anything, let alone deciding to go away with a stranger for a week. He pulls the pillow over his face and groans before texting Patrick back.

**David:** Does Wednesday work for you?

It’s three days from now. That should give Patrick plenty of time to change his mind.

**Wednesday**

Three days later and he’s pulling up in front of the address that Patrick has given him. Somehow, he’s not surprised to see Patrick waiting inside the glass doors of his apartment building, he exits the building and walks towards David’s car almost before David has come to a stop. He assumed Patrick would be waiting for him. Someone who texts at six in the morning would obviously be early. Patrick tucks his bag into the backseat, somehow wedging it in between David’s two extra bags and climbs into the front seat.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Suddenly, David realizes what a bad idea this is. Patrick could be anyone. A serial killer. An insurance salesman. A spin instructor. This could be the worst mistake of his life. Which is saying something. An uncomfortable silence descends over the car. After a moment that feels about two hours long, but in which David realizes he hasn’t made it to the end of the block, Patrick clears his throat.

“So, it, um, occurs to me that…”

“You’re not a spin instructor, are you?”

He glances at Patrick; he has an enormous smile on his face. “No, no, not a spin instructor. I’m in business development.”

“I don’t know what that means.” He isn’t sure he cares what it means, but if they are going to pretend to be dating, he thinks he should probably know something about Patrick.

“I work with small businesses, help them write business plans, that kind of thing.”

“Oh.” The silence descends again, uncomfortable. This is a huge mistake, he never should have agreed to it. What are they going to talk about for the next three hours, not to mention the next week? His thoughts started to spiral, his hands clenching on the steering wheel as he takes the exit for the highway.

Evidently, Patrick is thinking the same thing. “Okay, I have an idea, it’s kind of dorky, but it might help break the ice?”

“Okay?” David thinks he might go along with any idea Patrick proposes if it means they don’t have to spend the car ride in awkward silence.

“How about a rapid fire round of twenty questions? Answers only, no explanations until after.”

What the hell. It wasn’t like his life wasn’t on display in every magazine in the country on a weekly basis. How hard could this be? “You go first.”

“Um…” Patrick chews on his cheek for a minute. “Favorite color?”

“Blue.” As he says it, he realizes that Patrick is wearing blue again. He probably thinks David chose blue because of that. He grimaces to himself.

“Huh.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Patrick looking at his black and white outfit. “Your turn.”

“Favorite movie.” He glances at Patrick, eager to hear his answer.

Patrick drums his fingers on his knee for a second and David’s eyes are drawn to his arms as the muscles move and flex. “Hmm...Moneyball.”

“Isn’t that about sports and spreadsheets?” It’s increasingly clear they have nothing in common, his anxiety about spending the week together increases and he chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Pretty close.” Patrick smirks at him. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“Sleepless in Seattle. No, Notting Hill. No, The Lake House. Okay, I don’t have a favorite movie, it’s more like a favorite genre of movies.” 

“Right.” He doesn’t have to look at Patrick to know there’s a smirk on his face. 

“Why did you move to Toronto?” He thinks it’s an easy question but there’s a long silence and Patrick turns to look out the window for a moment. Finally, he sighs and shrugs.

“I broke up with my fiancee and we’ve broken up and gotten back together so many times that I knew I needed to leave her for good, so I moved three hours from home to start something new.”

David’s heart sinks at the mention of Patrick’s fiancee. He’s suspected that Patrick is straight, but this confirms it. This week will be fake all the way through. He can deal with that, it’s not the worst thing he’s ever done.

“So, tell me about this party we’re going to?” Patrick’s question is a transparent attempt to change the subject and he feels like it’s breaking the rules, but since they’re Patrick’s rules in the first place, David can’t complain.

“My mom throws a ‘Welcome to Summer’ party every year at our vacation home in Schitt’s Creek. She claims it’s to welcome the majesty of the season, but really I think it’s just an excuse to invite as many of her wealthy friends as she can. It’s awful.” He glances at Patrick, who is nodding and chewing on his lower lip. For the first time he wonders if Patrick knows who he is. He’s so used to everyone knowing everything about him, that it hasn’t occurred to him that Patrick might not know what he’s getting into. But, it’s too late now. 

“Sounds fun. I feel like I might be underdressed.”

David glances at Patrick, his clothes are nearly identical to when they met in the bar, his shirt is a darker blue and his jeans are black instead of blue. “Um...there’ll be other people there in jeans.”

“But?”

“But most of them will be wearing designer brands? Like Balmain? Or Amiri?” Patrick looks amused, a smile is playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Aren’t all jeans the same?”

“Um, no? Good clothes are about fit and style and the image you want to show people.” He shakes his head as quickly as he can while driving the car. He itches to dress Patrick in something a little tighter, a little less...mid-range. Something tight on his ass and skinny to make his legs stand out. He shifts in his seat.

“Huh. I think I’ve had these jeans for ten years. I bought them on sale at Sears.” Patrick stretches his legs out as far as he can in the passenger seat and David can tell he’s messing with him.

“You’re the worst.” He purses his lips to keep from laughing along with Patrick, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Am I the worst?” Patrick is openly laughing at him now. David clenches his hands on the steering wheel and stares at the road, trying to ignore the smirk he can still see out of the corner of his eye. “Surely someone who is the worst wouldn’t have volunteered to pretend to be your boyfriend for a week.”

“Who said you can’t be both?” He thinks Patrick might get offended, but he just grins at him and settles back in his seat.

“So, what’s our story?”

He hasn’t really thought about the fact that they might need a story to tell people about their relationship. He licks his lips, this is new territory. “Um...I’m not sure? I’ve never really had a boyfriend before? So I’m not sure what kinds of things people might ask?”

“Wait...what? You’ve never had a boyfriend?” Patrick stares at him. “But, you’re…”

“I’m what? Rich? Famous? Willing to fuck anyone?” 

“I was going to say gorgeous and funny. But maybe I should have gone with ‘too hard on yourself’ instead.” The complement goes straight through him, he’s grateful that he has the steering wheel to hold on to.

“Maybe you shouldn’t say anything.” 

Patrick takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he stares out the window. “It’s none of my business. But in my experience, people will want to know how we met, especially if you’ve never shown up with anyone before. The physical stuff is easy. In public, at least. But they’ll get suspicious if we don’t know anything about each other.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

Patrick’s laugh is bitter. “Let’s just say that there were certain parts of my relationship with my fiancee where I was just going through the motions.”

“Mmm.” He’s curious, but having shut down Patrick so effectively when it came to his own past, he can hardly start asking questions. There’s a long silence while he considers what Patrick has said.

“Can I ask you something?” Patrick is being careful, but David can hear the curiosity in his voice. 

“Okay?”

“Why do you care about what that guy said in the bar? Why go to all this trouble?” Patrick gestures to himself. “If anyone asks, it seems like it would have been easier to just say we broke up or whatever.”

“I guess I’m just tired of all the assumptions and all the insinuations.” David stares straight ahead out the windshield, not really seeing the road. “And, no one’s ever done anything like what you did for me before. I think I wanted to hold on to it.” His voice is quiet, he’s not sure how Patrick will respond to the last part.

It’s Patrick’s turn to be silent. “It’s probably easiest if we stick to the truth and just extend the timelines a bit. How we met is how we met, but maybe it was four months ago?”

“Better make it three months, otherwise we’ll have to hear about how this is my longest ever relationship.” Patrick raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You probably should tell me more about yourself. All you’ve said is that you have a deep love for romantic comedies and your strongly held feelings about denim might be negatively affecting your relationships.”

“Okay.” He wants to be annoyed, but somehow Patrick makes it seem like they’re both in on the joke. For a second he wishes Patrick wasn’t straight, that they were actually about to spend the week together as a couple. “Maybe you should tell me what you know about me.”

“Well, I know that you’re David Rose and your family owns Rose Video. Other than that, I know you’ve been on the cover of a lot of magazines, but based on the past hour and a half, I don’t think any of the writers have ever met you.”

There’s a lump in his throat. He doesn’t think anyone has ever given him the benefit of the doubt before. “I have a gallery. In New York. I sell contemporary art.”

“Do you like it?”

“I...mostly?” He’s never told anyone this before. “Some of the artists are kind of pretentious.” He bites his lips together. “You can’t tell anyone I said that. Some of them might be there this weekend.”

“I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t want me to.” He knows Patrick is talking about his gallery, but it feels more encompassing than that. No one has ever agreed to keep a secret for him before, even one so inconsequential.

“You, um, do business stuff?” He’s already forgotten what Patrick had said he did. Maybe it doesn’t matter. It’s not something he’d be able to remember even if they were dating.

“Yeah, does your gallery need a business plan?” Patrick is teasing him again, his voice light and mocking.

“Uh, probably?” Maybe after this week is over, he could have Patrick come to his gallery. He loses himself in the fantasy of bringing Patrick into his life in New York, of finding a way to see him every day.

“I’m going to ignore how uneasy that statement makes me about the future of your business. Basically, I put numbers into spreadsheets and try to figure out what businesses need to do to succeed.” 

He signals to take the highway exit to Elmdale. After the initial awkwardness, the trip has flown by. “I should probably warn you, my family can be...a lot, sometimes.” 

“So, just like you, then?” 

“Ha. Just, um, don’t take anything they say too seriously, okay?” 

“Definitely just like with you.”

“This is fun. I’m so glad you agreed to do this with me.” Despite his words, he is glad to have Patrick with him. Even though it’s fake, for the first time, he might have someone who is on his side.

Cars line the driveway when they arrive. He parks next to his sister’s Porsche. At the top of the circular drive, the house towers over them, wings extending in each direction from the central foyer. Beside him, Patrick is staring wide-eyed at the house. He exhales a deep breath. “Okay.” David is pretty sure he’s talking to himself.

They get out of the car and he gestures to Patrick to leave their bags. As they walk up the driveway, Patrick reaches out and takes his hand. He freezes for a moment, he can’t remember the last time he held hands with someone. Patrick squeezes his hand gently. 

“It’s going to be fine.”

He gives Patrick a ragged smile, nerves rising inside him. He’s more nervous about bringing home his fake boyfriend than he ever has been about anyone he was actually dating. Inside, there are people everywhere as staff and the decorators are working to get things ready for the weekend. 

“David!”

His mom descends the staircase like she’s being announced at a debutante ball. Her signature black and white dress flows behind her, matched by the black and white streaked wig she’d chosen. 

“We weren’t expecting you.”

“I texted you yesterday to say I was coming.” He’d texted her three times the week before, they’d had an entire conversation about the menu she had selected for Saturday.

“I wish you’d informed us of your impending disembarkation, all of the chambers are occupied.”

“You gave away my room?” He can feel Patrick’s fingers running over his knuckles, act or not, it’s strangely soothing.

“Truly David, you must do better at communicating your needs...Alice, the stands for the ice sculptures should go by the pool.” Before he can introduce her to Patrick, his mom turns away to direct the decorators.

“Good thing we didn’t unpack the car?” He can’t tell if Patrick is amused or frustrated. Patrick lets go of his hand and he feels its absence immediately. With a sigh, he pulls out his phone to text Stevie. Since the moment he’d met her five years ago in Schitt’s Creek’s only bar, she’s been the only saving grace about coming here each summer.

**David:** Do you have any rooms?  
**Stevie:** The room you like is free.  
**David:** There’ll be two of us  
**Stevie:** ???

He shoves his phone into his pocket. “My friend has a bed and breakfast. We can stay there.” 

Stevie’s bed and breakfast is practically next door. Of course, in Schitt’s Creek, everything is almost next door to everything else. He pulls up to the cream-colored Victorian house. The red and white sign at the end of the driveway is new, it reads “Rosebud Bed and Breakfast.”

Patrick glances at the sign and gives him a funny look. “Are all the local businesses required to name themselves after the Rose family?”

“No, my dad is Stevie’s silent partner. So…” It still feels strange to think his dad and Stevie have a separate business relationship. He and Stevie were friends long before his dad got involved and it’s weird. Stevie has heard them pull up and she appeared on the front porch, arms crossed over her usual plaid shirt. She nods towards Patrick.

“Who’s this?”

“Um...that’s, uh…” A selection of options run through his mind. Some guy I met three days ago. My fake boyfriend. A business major who I think I’m attracted to. Before he can blurt out the truth and ruin everything, Patrick steps forward.

“Patrick Brewer.” Patrick holds out his hand and Stevie shakes it. David can tell she’s suspicious as she gives Patrick a once over. 

“I only have one room open. You gonna be okay with that?”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Yup.” He crosses his arms and nods vigorously, trying not to look at Patrick.

Stevie stares at him, her eyes narrowed. She turns her intense gaze back to Patrick. “How did you guys meet?” It sounds like a casual question, but David can tell it’s a trap. Before he can intervene, Patrick is already answering.

“At a bar near my apartment.”

“Is that right? You two were at the same bar?” Stevie sounds skeptical and he knows they’ll be lucky to make it through the next twenty minutes, let alone the next few days, without her figuring out what’s going on.

He reaches out to take Patrick’s hand, looking for support. Without missing a beat, Patrick tangles their fingers together.

“That’s right. It was pretty lucky.” He leans over to kiss David softly on the cheek. David can feel the imprint of his lips even after Patrick steps away towards the front door.

Inside, he hands Stevie his credit card in exchange for a room key. Patrick is looking through the tourist brochures by the front entrance, he flips open one for the Corn Festival and David shudders. He hopes Patrick doesn’t have expectations about attending local agricultural fairs. 

“There’s a corn eating contest.”

“No.” He doesn’t have to look at Stevie to see the delighted smile spreading across her face.

“And a tractor pull.”

“Definitely not.”

“I like him.” Stevie joins in on the conversation at the worst possible moment. “I like you.” Patrick shrugs and grins and David can practically see them making an alliance against him. He huffs at Stevie. 

“Look David, you can make a toy car out of a cob of corn and race it against other people.”

He finally looks at Patrick, determined to put a stop to whatever this conversation has become. Patrick is biting his lips together, his soft brown eyes are sparking with amusement. “Okay.” He takes his credit card back from Stevie and walks towards the stairs, not caring if Patrick is following him or not.

As aggravating as he is, a tiny flash of warmth flickers inside him when he hears Patrick on the stairs behind him. He leaves his bags by the door of the room and opens the curtains. It’s the largest (and most expensive) room in the house and he loves the view that looks out over the lake. Behind him, Patrick sets his bag on the bed and comes to stand beside him. 

Whether it’s because they’re alone, or because of the size of the room or the queen-sized bed that rests expectantly behind them, the moment feels unbearably intimate. A strange look flickers across Patrick’s face and David can tell that he feels it as well.

“I think...I think I might get some air. I need to stretch my legs after being in the car all day.” 

“Okay.” Patrick has probably hit his limit for the amount of time he can spend with him in one day. He tries not to resent the fact that Patrick needs a break from him, bending down to unlace his shoes so that Patrick can’t see his face. “I’ll...um…I’ll be here.”

Patrick gives him the soft smile that David is coming to treasure. “I won’t be long.”

He settles on to the bed, trying to ignore the feeling that something, namely Patrick, is missing. He’s annoyed that his mother had given away his room, but he’s not-so-secretly glad to be away from the bustle of the main house, to have a small space of refuge and a place he can be alone with Patrick.

There’s a tap at the door. “Yeah?” Stevie pokes her head inside before coming in, leaving the door open behind her.

“So what’s the deal?” Stevie crosses her arms and stares at him.

“What deal?” He tries to bluff, even as he knows that she’ll be able to get the truth out of him.

“You and Patrick. What’s the deal? I know you’re not dating because one, you would have told me and two, he looks like an accountant.” Stevie sits on the couch next to the windows, and he can tell she won’t leave until he tells her what she wants to know.

“A sexy accountant.” The words slip out before he can stop them and Stevie’s eyebrows raise even higher. “Fine. He volunteered to come.”

“Out of the goodness of his heart?” Stevie tilts her head and waits for his answer.

“Um, yes?” Now that he says it out loud, it sounds ludicrous. No one is that nice. He gets up and paces beside the bed. The room is large, but the bed prevents him from going very far so he ends up taking two steps before he has to turn back. From her spot on the couch, Stevie continues to watch him, her eyes calculating.

“You’re sure he doesn’t want something from you?” 

“He’s not like that.”

Stevie eyes him closely. “Just be careful.”

He wants so badly to trust Patrick, his smile makes him feel warm in a way he’s never felt before. But Stevie is probably right, Patrick probably does want something, even if it’s just a vacation from the city. Everyone wants something from him. Maybe he’ll just enjoy the week, pretend to date Patrick until they return to the city and part ways. 

“Anyway, I came to see if you wanted pizza for dinner.” Stevie stands up and moves to the doorway.

“I always want pizza but isn’t this a bed and _breakfast_?”

“Obviously, I was going to charge you extra for it.” He makes a face as Stevie grins at him. “What does Patrick like on his pizza?” Her voice is mocking, she knows he has no idea about Patrick’s pizza preferences.”

“Pepperoni and mushroom.” Patrick’s voice drifts down the hall and he steps past Stevie into the room, his cheeks are flushed from being outside. He gives David a quick kiss on the cheek, it’s so natural that David forgets for a second that it’s not real. David wants to nuzzle the side of his neck and breathe in the woodsy scent he’s brought with him. As she leaves, Stevie rolls her eyes at him. “Be careful.” She mouths the words so Patrick won’t notice.

When the pizza arrives, they settle into the wraparound porch at the back of the house. The modern red and white couches, with their decorative throw pillows that he’d recommended for Stevie are a good fit with the look of the house. This side of the house is in the shade, but it’s still hot, the air feels thick and syrupy. He takes a plate and two pieces of pizza, rejecting the pepperoni and mushroom in favor of the artichoke and red pepper that Stevie knows he loves.

“I thought you were booked up this week?” They haven’t seen another person since they’ve arrived.

“We are.” Stevie swallows her pizza as a voice calls out from the house.

“David!” His sister steps out onto the porch, followed by two of her friends. 

“Alexis. What are you doing here?” He hasn’t seen her since he bailed her out of that Moroccan prison two months ago.

“Mom gave away my room. What are you doing here?”

“Same.” Alexis gives him an air kiss somewhere to the left of his ear. He grimaces back at her, their standard greeting.

“Ashley, Claire, this is my brother David.” Noticing Patrick for the first time, she holds out her hand. “And…?”

“This is Patrick.”

“Aren’t you the cutest thing.” Alexis holds Patrick’s hand for a little too long until he gently pulls it away. 

He places his hand possessively on Patrick’s thigh, hoping to discourage Alexis’s flirting. It’s a perfectly ordinary thing to do, he reminds himself. They’re supposed to be together and touching the leg of the person you’re dating is completely normal. Alexis raises an eyebrow at him, but she pulls her attention away from Patrick. 

“We’re going to the Wobbly Elm? If you want to come?”

“No, thanks.” With a shrug and a rush of festival wear and hair feathers, Alexis and her friends are gone. He’s already forgotten their names, her friends merge into a sea of Jessicas and Madisons. He’s grateful that she hasn’t brought her latest conquest at least. Patrick shifts beneath him and he realizes his hand is still on Patrick’s leg. He pulls it away more quickly than is natural and Stevie smirks at him from the other side of the coffee table. 

He pushes a breath through his pursed lips. Having Alexis and her friends staying here isn’t going to be the relaxing get away he had hoped for. With any luck, they will party until the early hours, leaving the place for him to enjoy. Him and Patrick, he reminds himself. Assuming Patrick wants to spend time here with David, which he probably doesn’t.

Stevie has broken out the wine. Her wine cellar of local wines is impressive and he knows she keeps it under lock and key for a reason. This bottle is a rich full red, perfect for the mellowing evening. The sun is setting and it fills the lake with oranges and purples. 

“So what’s the theme of the party this year?” It’s dark enough that he can’t see Stevie’s face clearly.

“I’m sorry, theme?” Patrick is looking at him inquisitively and he winces.

“I’m sorry, did I not tell you…” In his confusion about the fact that Patrick was coming with him this week, he’d forgotten to tell him about the party theme. “It’s supposed to be 1920s Hollywood.” Seeing Patrick’s raised eyebrows, he hurries to explain. “I have lots of things you can borrow and there’s more at the house.”

Patrick looks uneasy but he turns to Stevie. “Are you going to this thing?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. The only thing better than a Rose family party is one where everyone has to wear a costume.” Stevie’s face lights up with delight at the thought of their impending discomfort. 

“Wow, I can’t wait.” Patrick yawns. “I think I’m going to bed. David?” Patrick holds out his hand, David stares at if for a second before he takes it, rising slowly to his feet. It’s all an act. He just hadn’t realized that Patrick would be quite so good an actor when he’d agreed to this charade.

Back in their room, the bed looms even more prominently than before. “Is this going to be okay? I could sleep on the couch...or the floor?” The couch is too small for an adult to sleep on and he hasn’t slept on the floor since he was eight years old and he and Alexis had pretended to go camping.

“It’s fine.” Patrick squeezes his hand and releases his fingers. Holding Patrick’s hand has felt so natural, he didn’t realize their fingers were still tangled together until Patrick let him go. He clenches his hands into fists, hoping to chase away the lingering feeling of Patrick’s fingers between his. “Really, David, it’s fine. I knew what I was getting into when I volunteered for this. Well, except for the part where I have to dress up in a costume, but otherwise.”

“Okay, but you’re going to look very cute.”

“I’m already very cute.” Patrick smirks at him and carries his toiletry bag into the ensuite bathroom, closing the door.

“Yeah, you are.” David mutters to himself as he unpacks his main suitcase into the closet. The others can wait until morning. He’d thought that having Patrick pretend to be his boyfriend for the week would make things easier, putting an end to the questions about his personal life. Instead, here he is, stuck with a cheeky, very attractive, probably straight guy who is far too good an actor for David’s comfort. With a sigh, he pulls on his black sweatpants and white t-shirt and waits for Patrick to finish in the bathroom.

When he comes back out after his turn in the bathroom, Patrick is tucked into his side of the bed, he’s turned on the bedside lamps in favor of the overhead lamp and the softer light has a cozy, intimate feel to it. He crawls under the covers; the bed is large and Patrick is well over on his side. Still, it feels too small and close. He vows to stay on the edge of the mattress as he flips onto his side and looks at Patrick. Patrick is looking back at him, his position mirroring David’s. He smiles faintly, almost as though he’s holding back a secret. Something expands and crackles between them, David chokes it back, not wanting to give into the beginnings of whatever crush might be taking hold.

“Goodnight, Patrick.”

“Goodnight, David.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Thursday**

He’s stiff and sore when he wakes up, his body rigidly aligned with the edge of the mattress. He’d drifted in and out of sleep until about two o’clock, when he’d finally heard Alexis come in. Satisfied she was okay, only then had he fallen fully asleep. He looks across to Patrick’s side of the bed, but the covers are thrown back across the empty bed. Moments later he hears footsteps in the hall and Patrick comes in, a steaming mug in each hand. He sets one of the cups on David’s nightstand and he can smell the rich aroma of coffee. Patrick takes the other mug and sits on the couch across the room. 

“Morning.”

“Thanks.” He closes his eyes as he takes the first sip. The coffee is perfect, Stevie must have made it. “And good morning.”

“Stevie told me that if I brought you coffee it would turn you into a nicer person, so I’m waiting to see if it works.”

“It only works on people who don’t tease me.”

“So practically never, then?” Patrick’s mug hides the smirk that David knows is probably making his lips turn up in that way that makes him want to smile back at him. His hands tighten on his mug. Whatever attraction he’d felt for Patrick yesterday has not lessened overnight. “What’s the plan for today?”

“So, uh, we don’t have to be anywhere until a family dinner this evening. The car keys are over there if you want to do something on your own.”

“Won’t people get suspicious if I’m off doing things without you?”

“Honestly? You could do anything up to and including going home with someone else and no one would think anything of it because it would just be par for the course for me.” He tries to keep the bitter note out of his voice, but he’s not sure he succeeds. A look of sadness and something he thinks might be anger crosses Patrick’s face before he blinks it away. 

“What are you going to do?”

He looks out at the deck chairs that Stevie has placed at the end of the dock. “I thought I might sit and read. I don’t get to do that very much.” 

Patrick smiles at him softly. “That sounds really nice.”

He didn’t expect that Patrick would want to hang out with him today after spending all day yesterday together. It’s not a choice that most people would make. But after breakfast Patrick follows him down to the end of the dock, a book tucked under his arm. It’s cool this morning, mist is rising from the lake and a flock of ducks or geese are just visible on the far side. 

He tucks himself into one of the cushioned Adirondack chairs, wrapping the blanket he’s brought around himself. Beside him, Patrick does the same. Patrick is reading something called ‘The Baseball Codes.’ “I would have thought you’d be reading some sort of business book.”

“Because I’m boring?”

“No…”

“You think I’m boring.” The spark is back in Patrick’s eyes and David can tell he’s not going to let this go. Does he think Patrick is boring? No, he decides, he thinks Patrick is steady and reliable. An unexpected longing for it catches at the back of his throat, suppressing his words. He coughs and the pressure in his chest eases.

“I don’t think you’re boring. I think you know who you are.”

Patrick’s laugh catches him off-guard. It’s harsh, full of bitterness and scorn. David thinks it’s the most heartbreaking sound he’s ever heard. “I keep forgetting…” There’s a long pause and David isn’t sure if Patrick is going to finish his thought. Patrick stares at the lake, his lips pressed together and his eyes distant. “I keep forgetting we don’t know each other.” His voice is soft and there’s something similar to regret behind his words. Longing, David decides, but longing for what, he’s not sure.

“I forget that too.” 

Patrick turns away from the lake to look at him. His eyes are warm, but he’s not smiling now. “What are you reading?”

He turns the cover of Little Women towards Patrick. Given Patrick’s penchant for teasing, he’s a bit apprehensive to show him. He’d grabbed the book in a moment of nostalgia on his way out the door of his apartment.

“I’ve never read it.” Patrick never mocks him about the things that are important, he realizes. Only when they can share the joke. The lump in his throat gets bigger. “Doesn’t one of them die?”

“Beth. But the worst part is when Amy burns Jo’s novel. It’s so cruel, destroying something someone is so passionate about.” His words catch in his throat at the thought of it. He’s never loved something the way Jo loved her book but he can imagine what it would feel like to have it ripped away from you.

Patrick hands the book back to him and picks up his own book, but he doesn’t open it. His knuckles are white as they grip the spine. “I’m glad I came with you, David.”

He can tell that their talk has triggered something for Patrick. He’s not sure how to have this conversation with someone he knows, let alone someone he met less than a week ago. He gives Patrick a small grimace and shakes his head. “Me too.”

“David.” His sister’s voice rings out as she makes her way down the dock. Her Manolo Blanic shoes are a touch unsteady on the wooden decking. A slight breeze has picked up and she’s holding a large hat on her head with one hand.

“David, you look like a cute little burrito.” She tugs on the blanket near his face and boops his nose with one finger.

“What do you want?”

“David. You can’t tell mom and dad about...Morocco.” Alexis glances sideways at Patrick. “Or Egypt.”

“You know what?” Patrick stands up and offers his chair to Alexis. “I could use another cup of tea. Do you want anything?”

“You don’t have to do that.” He doesn’t want Patrick to leave. It’s peaceful, just the two of them.

“I’ll be right back.” Patrick leans over and David expects he’s going to kiss his cheek like he has several times already. Instead, Patrick kisses him gently on the lips. It’s short, more of a peck than anything else, but it reverberates through him. Without thinking, he brings his fingers to his lips. Patrick squeezes his shoulder and walks up the dock to the house.

“Mom and dad don’t know about the ransom or what happened with the embassy. So you can’t tell them.”

“I never tell them.” He grinds his teeth in frustration. Bailing Alexis out from her adventures has become a regular occurrence. “I just cover up your exploits like I always do.”

“So what’s going on with you and Patrick?” Alexis sits on the edge of Patrick’s chair and leans towards him.

“What do you mean?” Alexis can be startlingly perceptive and if she figures out his relationship with Patrick is fake, then everyone will know.

“Is he for real? He seems so nice.” She toys with the beaded charm on her cell phone. 

“Thank you, Alexis.” He rolls his eyes at the implication that no one he’s dated has been nice. It’s true, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“No one ever taught us to be nice, David. Just be careful he doesn’t get hurt.”

“What about me?” It’s typical of his sister to care more about the feelings of someone she met less than 24 hours ago than she does about him. 

“Alexis!” Both he and Alexis turn to look back to the house. One of Alexis’s friends waves from the back porch.

“Coming.” Alexis boops him one last time on the nose before heading back to the house.

He looks back to the lake. The mist has burned off and the light breeze is creating ripples, distorting the reflection. Alexis is right. Patrick is almost unbearably nice, it’s impossible that he won’t be dashed to pieces by the Rose family. Not that he has to worry about that, since they aren’t in a real relationship.

Patrick’s been gone for awhile. Even if he’s deliberately lingering to let him and Alexis talk, he should have noticed when Alexis returned to the house. Suddenly, his book isn’t as appealing as it was. David carefully folds the blanket and starts up the wooden boardwalk. He’s not looking for Patrick, he tells himself. He just wants another cup of coffee.

He hears them as soon as he comes in the door. From the kitchen, the sound of Stevie and Patrick laughing together echoes through the house. A stab of jealousy ratchets through him and he pushes it away. He and Stevie have long since laid to rest any feelings for each other beyond friendship, if she and Patrick find something in each other, then he’s happy for them. He ignores the tension that’s spreading through his shoulders. 

In the kitchen, Patrick and Stevie are sitting next to each other at the island, heads bent over Stevie’s phone. Steam rises from a pair of mugs sitting in front of Patrick.

“What’s going on in here?” The words come out more sharply than he intends, infused by the tension he feels. He buries his hands in the blanket, so they can’t see his clenched fists.

“Stevie was just showing me the photos from last year’s party.” Patrick slides one of the mugs across the counter to him. 

“So you’re here, laughing at me?” He tries to make it a joke, but it falls flat. Patrick frowns at him, a crease appearing between his eyes. Despite his objections, his mom had insisted on a circus theme last year and the mime costume she’d made him wear was not something he wanted to revisit.

He’d come back to the house because he’d felt that nagging pull to be with Patrick, but now he needs some space. He leaves the kitchen, heading for his room. Except it’s their room and seeing Patrick’s things tucked neatly into the closet and on the nightstand increases his tension even more. He sets the blanket on the bed and stares out the window. Moments later, he hears the door open and close behind him. 

Patrick comes up beside him and sets the cup of coffee on the windowsill. 

“Stevie knows.” He blurts out the words before Patrick can speak.

“I’m sorry?” Patrick looks confused. Again. It isn’t like David could hide the fact that he’s a mess from him forever. He’d learn that David was a disaster eventually, it might as well be now.

“Stevie knows we’re not really dating. She figured it out right away.” The words come out in a rush and he stares at Patrick defiantly. 

“Well, that will make things easier.” 

Even his fake boyfriend wants an open relationship. He picks up the cup of coffee, wanting to do something with his hands. It’s still a bit too hot to hold comfortably, but the heat soaks into his fingers, a welcome distraction.

“David…” Patrick stops, uncertain for the first time since David’s known him. He lets out a deep breath. “What time do we have to leave?”

Normally, he would be glad to put off his attendance at his mom’s events for as long as possible, but having a distraction from Patrick was a welcome idea. “Let’s go after lunch.” He’s relieved when Patrick nods and goes back downstairs, presumably to spend more time with Stevie.

His parents’ vacation house is a lot quieter than the day before, he knows the decorators and caterers will return tomorrow to put the finishing touches on everything before the party on Saturday. His sister’s Porsche isn’t in the driveway, so she must still be off with her friends. 

Inside, the great hall is empty, so he leads Patrick and Stevie through to the back garden where he finds his parents sitting beside the glistening, but untouched, swimming pool. Although they’re supposed to be on vacation, they both look like they could step into the society pages without any trouble. His mom is wearing her signature black and white vertical striped dress while his dad’s only concession to their holiday is that he’s left his suit jacket draped over a nearby chair.

“David! And Stevie! And…”

“This is Patrick.” Patrick leans forward to shake his dad’s hand. He makes a small move towards his mom but she waves him off. He returns to David’s side, sliding an arm around David’s shoulders. 

“David, you didn’t tell us you were bringing someone.” His dad folds his newspaper and sets it on the table.

“Um...it was kind of last minute.”

“Oh David, is your relationship with Peter durable enough to withstand a family soiree this early on?” His mom is writing on the seating cards for Saturday. The stack of cards looks even larger than it has in previous years.

“It’s Patrick and actually, we’ve been together for three months.” He doesn’t understand how Patrick is consistently so smooth. Stevie, his sister and now his parents, nothing seems to faze him. 

“Well, welcome, Patrick.” 

“David. It’s most iniquitous of you to have kept Patrick from us for all this time.” His mom looks up from the cards and shoots him a pointed look.

“Maybe that’s because involving you in my relationships has never had a positive outcome.” His voice rises and Patrick squeezes his shoulder gently. He can’t imagine sitting and making small talk with his parents for the rest of the afternoon, but he doesn’t want to talk to Patrick, either. He’s restless and tired and Patrick’s arm is still resting across his shoulders like it was meant to be there.

“We should find you something to wear, for Saturday.” He steps sideways a little, just far enough that Patrick has to move his arm. “Stevie, do you need anything?”

“No, your dad and I have some things to go over for the B&B.” Stevie pulls a stack of paperwork out of her bag and hands it to his dad.

“C’mon.”

“Do you have a tickle trunk or something?”

“Not exactly.”

Upstairs, he opens the door of the walk-in closet and stands to one side so Patrick can enter.

“Holy shit.” Patrick’s eyes are wide as he takes in the enormous closet and the rows of clothing. It’s not his actual wardrobe, of course. The designer clothes that he loves and wears every day are safely back in New York or at his parents’ main house in Toronto. 

“What…?”

“It’s just a few odds and ends.” He crosses his arms, his cheeks are turning red. “Costumes from my mom’s shows and some other stuff.”

“David, I don’t think my entire extended family owns this many clothes.”

“So far I’ve seen you wear three nearly identical button-up shirts, so this doesn’t surprise me.” He moves along the racks of clothing, picking out items and throwing them onto the banquette in the middle of the room. He really wants to see Patrick in a vintage tuxedo, but he’s not sure he can cobble together the correct look in such a short time. He decides that Patrick will probably be more comfortable in something a little less formal. He purses his lips and looks at the pile of clothing he’s selected. He pulls together a smaller pile of items and hands them to Patrick. “Put these on.”

Patrick holds the clothes to his chest awkwardly. David’s forgotten again that they aren’t in a relationship, that Patrick won’t be comfortable changing in front of him.

“Sorry.” He steps around Patrick into the hall and leans against the wall. 

When Patrick steps out a few minutes later, it takes his breath away. The white button-down shirt isn’t so different from what he usually wears and he’s rolled up the sleeves in the same way. The suspenders and the brown plaid pants and vest take the outfit back to the 1920s, but it’s the bowtie that’s messing with David’s head. Patrick’s left it untied and it hangs on either side of the open neck of his shirt. He can’t take his eyes off it.

He clears his throat. “I think you’re supposed to tie that.” His voice sounds strangled. 

“I’ve never tied one of those before.”

He reaches out for the loose ends of the bowtie but his hands settle on the placket of Patrick’s shirt instead, pulling the fabric straight. “On second thought, I think you look good like this.” He can’t seem to convince his fingers to let go of Patrick’s shirt. He drops his eyes to Patrick’s bare neck, he wants to mark up his pale skin, to let everyone know how he feels about him. 

Patrick’s hands come up and grasp his wrists, gently pulling his hands away. “Does it look okay?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Next time, you can give me some warning and I can raid my own costume closet.”

He knows Patrick is teasing, but he’s stuck on the notion that there might be a next time. He’s staring at Patrick like an idiot when he hears his sister’s voice down the hall. Before he can react, Patrick’s hands are cupping his face and he’s kissing David, slowly and sweetly. 

“Oh my god, David. Get a room.” Alexis comes around the corner with her two friends trailing behind. 

He blinks at Patrick, confused about what has just happened. Why did Patrick kiss him? 

“I’m...I’m gonna go change.” Patrick steps back into the walk-in closet and closes the door, leaving David staring after him.

Back downstairs, his mom has laid out place settings for a formal dinner party, complete with silver candlesticks and a battalion of cutlery. Patrick’s eyes widen at the sight of it and he swallows audibly. David takes his hand, grateful to be the one who’s confident about what’s coming. 

He leans over the whisper in Patrick’s ear. “Just start on the outside and work your way in. Plus, it’s just my family it’s not like you’re dining with the Queen.” 

“That’s not as reassuring as you might think.” He thinks Patrick leans into him for a second, but then there’s a flurry of chairs and napkins and shuffling around as they take their seats and the moment disappears. 

“David, how did you and Patrick meet?” His dad has decided that a family dinner means that he should take an interest in his children. Patrick puts his hand on David’s leg and his mind goes blank, he can’t remember the story they’d agreed upon, all he can think about is the weight of Patrick’s hand on his thigh. 

Before he can respond, his mom interrupts. “David, Alexis, we’ve been invited to the Bloomfield’s for dinner tomorrow.”

He looks across the table at Alexis; she looks as alarmed as he feels. She jumps in before he can speak. “Yeah, I can’t come, it’s Ashley’s last day tomorrow and we have plans.”

His mom’s gaze turns to him. “I’m not going either.” He interjects as soon as Alexis has finished talking.

“Oh, David, why not?” 

He’s always thought the Bloomfields were unnaturally close, but that isn’t the real reason. “It’s my birthday and I’m not spending it skinny dipping with the Bloomfields.”

“Oh David, we won’t be doing any skinny dipping.” He clenches the edge of the table in frustration. Years of experience have lowered his expectations about his birthday, but he doesn’t think a ‘happy birthday’ should be too much to hope for.

“It’s your birthday?” Patrick looks surprised, like he thinks David should have told him. 

“Of course it’s your birthday!” His mom is trying to cover the fact that she’s forgotten, again. “And what better way to celebrate.”

“Well, it’s not and I’m not going.”

“So Patrick, what is it you do?” As always, his dad is doing his best to distract from an uncomfortable situation.

“Um...I help businesses with their business plans.” Patrick’s fingers brush back and forth on his leg. It might be comforting if David wasn’t so turned on by it. He shifts in his chair.

“Maybe you can help David with a business plan for his gallery.” Alexis pipes up helpfully from across the table. David grimaces at her in annoyance.

“That’s a lovely idea, dear. David can use all the help he can get.” His mom beams at Alexis.

“I’m sitting right here.” Patrick squeezes his leg. Even though he knows it doesn’t mean anything, it still grounds him. 

“Speaking of business. Can anyone tell me why there was a payment to someone in Egypt last month?” Across the table, Alexis shoots him a worried look. 

“Uh...that was me. There’s a new designer out of Cairo and I needed their spring collection.” He had purchased some clothes out of Egypt this year, so it isn’t entirely a lie.

“You bought a hundred thousand dollars worth of Egyptian clothes?” He glares at Alexis, she should have known that the ransom payment would be too large to cover up.

“Um, yes. They’re very hot right now. If I’d waited, they would have cost twice as much.”

“One day, this family is going to have to learn the value of a dollar.”

“That’s right and you will be the one to teach them, Mr Rose.” His mom rests her hand on his dad’s arm and he pats it fondly. “Until that day comes, perhaps a little more restraint is in order, David?”

“You just spent $25,000 on ice sculptures!” How is he having this conversation about money that he didn’t even spend?

“We’re not talking about me, dear.” His mom waves away the cost of the ice sculptures with a manicured hand. Beside him, he can see that Patrick’s eyes have gone wide again and his hand flexes on David’s leg for a second. He glares at Alexis again, it’s her fault that this is happening. She smiles back at him coyly.

“I’m thinking I might take a trip next month, maybe to Morocco. Weren’t you just there, Alexis?” He smiles at her sweetly, his eyes wide and questioning.

Alexis shoots daggers at him. “It wasn’t that great, actually.”

“When were you in Morocco?” His dad is looking back and forth between the two of them as though he’s encountering aliens for the first time.

“It was nothing, just a brief stop-over. I barely left the airport.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause on your Instagram there’s a whole series of photos of you at the casino in Marrakesh.” He smirks at her, eyes narrowed.

“What were you doing at a casino?” His dad’s voice is rising.

“We were barely there. Jessica wanted to get a selfie, it took, like, five minutes.” His dad glares at both of them, frustration clear on his face. Beside him, he sees Patrick exchange a look with Stevie. Patrick’s probably regretting that he ever agreed to be part of this. 

Dinner finally grinds to an end. Eager to leave, he pushes his chair back, leaving Patrick and Stevie scrambling to follow him. He makes a terse farewell to his parents, hot on his heels, Alexis does the same. Stevie’s already out the door when Alexis catches up to him.

“Thanks a lot, David.” 

“You started it.”

Before they can escalate into their usual bickering, Patrick calls his name. “David.” Patrick tilts his head at him as Alexis makes a frustrated noise and opens the front door. 

“What?” The door slams shut behind Alexis. Patrick grips his shoulders, pulling him to a stop.

“You looked like you needed a break.” 

“You don’t have to do this.” He likes the feel of Patrick’s hands on his shoulders. He likes it too much for something that isn’t real.

“Do what?”

“Pretend when no one’s around.”

“Is that what this is?” The enigmatic question makes him want to yell at Patrick. Or kiss him. He can’t decide which. 

“Your sister’s probably gone by now and Stevie’s waiting.” Patrick drops his hands and walks to the door. David stares after him for a second before following, his eyes narrowed at the back of Patrick’s head.

Back at the bed and breakfast, Stevie disappears to another part of the house while Patrick goes upstairs. After his fight with Alexis, David is feeling restless, so he goes into the living room and flips through Stevie’s DVDs.

Stevie keeps an extensive collection of movies on hand. She claims they’re for the guests, but David’s sure she watches them more than the guests do. He pulls two his favorite romantic comedies off the shelf and loads the first one into the machine. 

The windows are covered and he can see the evening sun beating against the outside of the venetian blinds. The room is dim and cool. He sinks into the couch, wrapping a spare blanket around himself. It isn’t cold, but the blanket is soft and comforting, taking the edge off of his self pity. Surely he deserves better than this the night before his birthday? He always expects his birthdays to be better than they are and he’s always disappointed. There’s no reason that this year should be any different.

He loses himself in Practical Magic, watching as Sandra Bullock stocks the shelves of her botanical shop and romances Aidan Quinn when there’s a soft noise from the doorway and he looks up to see Patrick watching him. He’s holding his hands behind his back, hiding something. 

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long.” Patrick comes into the room. “I brought you something, but since you just finished dinner, I’m not sure you’ll want it.” He holds out a bowl of popcorn. 

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.” He makes grabby motions with his hands, reaching for the popcorn.

“Is there room on that couch for two people?” The simple question makes his heart skip, he slides over so that there’s space for Patrick to join him. Patrick tucks the bowl between them. “What did I miss?”

“Um...Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman are sisters who are witches and Nicole accidentally kills her boyfriend.”

“Ah.” His hand brushes Patrick’s in the bowl, but instead of flinching away from the unexpected contact, it’s like Patrick is playing with him. His fingers chase David’s, brushing against them then sliding away before David can react. He glances at Patrick, trying to read his expression, but he’s watching the movie intently. David reaches for another handful, but Patrick’s fingers flick gently against the back of his hand before scooping up a handful of popcorn. He tries to keep his hand on his side of the bowl, only to have Patrick press his hand against the side before moving away again. 

He takes the last few kernels out of the bowl, whining a little to discover the bowl is empty. Patrick places the bowl on the coffee table and without saying anything, winds his fingers through David’s. He freezes for a second. What the hell, he thinks. Even if this isn’t real, he wants to savour it, to remember it when he’s back in New York and Patrick is long gone. With a sigh, he leans back into Patrick’s shoulder. Patrick is solid behind him, as though he could hold David up, keep him standing during an inclement wind. 

The movie ends, the credits are rolling across the screen. Hope Floats is the next movie on his list, but he doesn’t want to abandon his comfortable spot next to Patrick, to extract himself from the hold Patrick has on his hand. Finally, the TV screen goes blue, he’s about to get up when Patrick’s thumb rubs deliberately across his knuckles and he clears his throat awkwardly. “David, I…” Before he can finish, or even start, what he’s going to say, Stevie is in the doorway. Patrick breaks off and both he and David stare at her, startled. Stevie raises her eyebrows when she sees their clasped hands but thankfully she doesn’t say anything. 

“You know the DVD won’t change itself, right?”

“Yes, but you’re here now, so…” 

“Hmm, I think there might be an extra charge for that.”

“Maybe it can be my birthday present, it’s not like you’ll get me anything else.” Patrick’s thumb is moving again, stroking back and forth across his hand, over and over like the crash of waves on a beach.

“You wish, I don’t want to set a precedent.” Stevie loads the movie into the DVD player and settles into the loveseat, resting her feet on the coffee table. The earlier moment has been lost, Patrick’s fingers are still clasping his, but whatever he wanted to say has gone.

Patrick holds his hand for the rest of the movie, his fingers warm between David’s. He can feel Patrick yawning beside him as the movie ends. Stevie is fast asleep on the other sofa. 

“Let’s go to bed.” Patrick whispers in his ear so he doesn’t disturb Stevie. He inhales sharply at the words, wishing there was a subtext beneath them. He gets up as quietly as he can, tucking his blanket around Stevie and following Patrick out of the room.

Patrick is already under the covers by the time he finishes in the bathroom. He’s holding his book from earlier, but David doesn’t think he’s reading it. He looks up as David opens the bathroom door, the smile that makes David’s stomach flutter spreading across his face. He climbs into his side of the bed, stretching out on his side so he can see Patrick.

“So, did you really spend $100,000 on Egyptian clothes?” Patrick puts his book down and lies down across from David. The desire to touch him is overwhelming.

“Not exactly.” He rolls his eyes as he recalls his conversation with Alexis. “Most of it was ransom money for Alexis.”

“O...kay.” There’s a long pause. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I had to send money to rescue one of my family members from Egyptian kidnappers.”

“Honestly, it’s almost a weekly occurrence for me.” He chews the inside of his cheek for a minute. “In the last six months I’ve bailed her out of Egypt, Morocco, Bangladesh, Brazil and Honduras.”

“And who rescues you?” The question is soft and it brings tears to his eyes. He wants to bury his face in the pillow, to tear himself away from the tenderness in Patrick’s eyes.

“I...I guess I’ve learned to rescue myself.” He’s quiet for a long moment before he continues. “I don’t know if I’m very good at it.” He can’t look at Patrick anymore so he reaches to turn out the light. 

“Goodnight, Patrick.”

“Goodnight, David.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Friday**

The next morning, he wakes up before Patrick. Patrick is curled on his side, his eyelashes are brushing the top of his cheek and there’s a faint smile on his lips. His hair is sticking up a little on the side and David fights the temptation to smooth it back into place. If he can make it through the next two days then they can leave first thing on Sunday morning and he can go back to New York and get over this crush or whatever he feels for Patrick. Two more days. That’s all.

Patrick’s eyes drift open and the soft warmth of them pulls David in. “Happy birthday.”

There’s a lump in his throat now. It shouldn’t mean anything, but after the casual indifference of his family, it’s too much. “Thank you.”

“Would you mind if I borrowed the car today? I need to run an errand.”

“No, of course.” He doesn’t know why he’s disappointed. It’s not like he has any claim over Patrick just because it’s his birthday. If it hadn’t been for last night, he probably wouldn’t have even mentioned it to Patrick. 

“Do you have any plans for today?” Neither of them have moved since Patrick woke up and the intimacy of the conversation creeps up on him. He’s not the kind of person who has lingering conversations in the morning across pillows with mussed hair and sleepy eyes. He’s the kind of person who gets left behind in a rush as the other person gets dressed quickly, saying they don’t need breakfast before they go.

“No, nope.” He looks away, not wanting to reveal the dull ache that’s lingering in the back of his eyes.

“Well, we can figure something out when I get back. Maybe we could go for dinner this evening?” 

“I…” He’s not even sure what they’re doing anymore. There’s no reason for Patrick to pretend to ask him out when no one else is around and yet, he is. “Okay, sure.”

“Great.” With that, Patrick smiles and the corners of David’s mouth turn up in response. He lays in bed as Patrick heads for the bathroom, silently contemplating the imprint of Patrick’s head on the pillow.

Patrick is long gone when he makes it downstairs but Stevie has left breakfast out for him. The pancakes are a touch rubbery from sitting out, but he finishes a plateful and wanders into the living room. He’s trying to decide if he wants to commit to another Sandra Bullock movie when Patrick appears in the doorway, a blue gift bag in one hand. He sets it on the coffee table in front of David.

“Happy birthday.” The words are soft and anxious, as though Patrick is worried how his gift will be received.

“What are you doing?” The words leak out before he can stop them.

“If I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, people will ask.” It’s perfectly logical, yet his heart sinks at Patrick’s response. For a split second he’d wanted to believe that Patrick had brought him a gift as a friend or something more. He swallows the disappointment in the back of his throat and reaches into the bag, his fingers find a square box at the bottom. 

He opens the white cardboard jewelry box to reveal a silver bracelet. Patrick has a good eye, it’s a match for the necklace he wears every day. It’s a good choice in other ways, too. It’s personal enough to mean something without creating expectations between them.

He looks up to see Patrick watching him carefully. “Thank you, I love it.” He holds out his hand so that Patrick can clasp the bracelet around his wrist. Patrick’s fingers brush against him, a faint whisper against the sensitive skin on the inside of his wrist.

“All right, get your things.” Patrick straightens, a determined look in his eye. 

“For what?” He puts the empty jewelry box back in the gift bag and narrows his eyes at Patrick.

“It’s your birthday, I’m not letting you sit in this room all day. We’re going out and then we’re going to have dinner.”

“Okay, I’m going to need more guidance than that if I’m going to choose the correct wardrobe.” He gestures at the Givenchy sweater and skin-tight jeans he’d selected that morning.

“Hmm...we’ll probably be outside and then we’ll go out for dinner.”

“So probably not a Michelin star restaurant, then?” He’s been to most of the local restaurants and they’ve been underwhelming at best. 

“I’m pretty sure the nearest Michelin restaurant is a plane ride away.”

“You know that’s not impossible if you wanted to?” 

“Quit stalling, this will be fun.” Patrick holds out his hand to pull David off of the couch. To David’s disappointment, he lets go of David’s hand right away, giving him a friendly shove towards the stairs.

After his third wardrobe change, Patrick throws up his hands and walks to the car, not looking to see if David is following behind him. David considers changing clothes again just to see what Patrick will do, but the thought that Patrick might leave him behind is too real to consider so he hurries out the door after him. 

In the car he can’t contain his curiosity. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises.”

“Too bad it’s your birthday, then.” Patrick smirks at him, his lips turning up in the way that makes David want to smile back at him. He forces his mouth into his usual grimace. Patrick’s bracelet is strange and heavy on his wrist, he twists it and the links slide across his skin. 

Fifteen minutes later Patrick pulls into a farmyard. The sign at the gate reads ‘Olsen Orchard.’ Cars fill the parking lot and a large tent sits to one side of the farmhouse.

“The woman at the jewelry store told me it was Open Farm Days this weekend. Local farms have tastings and tours.” He likes the thought of free food and he lets Patrick guide him through the orchard to the tent. Inside, a series of stations have been set up featuring everything from fresh cherries and plums to pies and other baked goods. He can smell the sugar and the pie crust and the fruit and he closes his eyes to savour the smell. When he opens his eyes Patrick is grinning at him. He holds up a tart in front of his mouth for him to take a bite. It’s crispy and gooey and the flavour is like nothing he’s ever had in the city. 

“Mmm.” It’s almost a moan but he can’t help himself. 

“More?” Patrick raises an eyebrow at him and offers the rest of the tart. He opens his mouth and Patrick slides the rest of the tart between his lips. It’s too much, too affectionate, he breathes in sharply and a crumb of pie crust goes down the wrong way. His eyes water as he tries to cough without spraying pie tart all over Patrick. He turns away, trying to breathe and cough and not look like a complete idiot at the same time.

“Are you okay?” Patrick is rubbing small circles on his back as he tries to regain his composure. He’s not sure if the touch of Patrick’s hand is helping or making things worse. Patrick opens a bottle of water and he passes it to David. He takes a deep swallow, the water chases away the last tickle from the back of his throat.

“Good...fine...I’m fine.” His eyes are streaming with tears. He tries to scrub them away with the back of his hand but Patrick bats his hands away and wipes the wetness from his cheeks. Patrick’s fingers are gentle against his skin and it takes all of David’s willpower not to lean forward to kiss him. 

“Good to hear. I’d hate to have to explain to your parents that I accidentally killed you on your birthday.”

“That tart was worth dying for.” Patrick is laughing at him now. “Are there any more?”

Shaking his head, Patrick hands over another tart. “Maybe you should operate this one. Just in case.” David grimaces at him, but he takes the second tart. It‘s just as good as the first one, blackberry this time instead of cherry. After two more tarts and half a pint of fresh cherries, Patrick insists that they leave for the next farm.

The next stop turns out to be just down the road. “Is this a goat farm?” ‘Warner Farm, Championship Goats’ the sign at the gate reads. Fruit trees are one thing, but he isn’t sure he wants to have a farm experience that includes smelly animals.

“Mmm, cheese, I think the map said.” Patrick pulls into a parking spot near the gate. A large table has been set up in front of the house and beyond that a pen is surrounded by children and families. David can hear the squeals of the children and another noise that he assumes is coming from the goats.

“Cheese I am completely on board for, but I’m not touching any goats.”

“I don’t think you have to milk the goats yourself.” Patrick takes his hand as they walk through the farmyard. Even though there’s a near zero chance that they might see someone who would expect them to act like they’re dating, it feels right and natural to hold Patrick’s hand, to feel the rasp of his callouses against the back of his hand.

“Just wanted to be clear.”

As they approach the table, he can see that a spread of cheese has been laid out on top of it. A variety of plates, each in a different shade of blue, dot the table, each one contains a different cheese surrounded by an array of crackers. Tiny cheese knives resting on each plate. He lets out a small groan at the sight.

He has to let go of Patrick’s hand to spread the cheese onto the crackers, but it’s worth it. He pops the cracker into his mouth and savours the sharp taste of the cheese on his tongue. “Why don’t we have cheese like this in the city? Do country people hide it somewhere?”

“I think the bigger question is how you can eat so much cheese after eating all those tarts.”

He eyes Patrick carefully, used to being with people who would happily run him down for his eating habits but Patrick’s eyes are dancing and he hands David a cracker slathered in chevre. 

“In a perfect world, we would have had the cheese first.”

“I’m going to look at the goats.” Patrick gestures behind him and across the yard David can see that the crowd that was around the goat pen has dispersed. On the other side of the fence five brown and white goats running and jumping on a series of logs and obstacles. He makes a face but Patrick is already striding across the grass to the pen. Patrick’s jeans are the same mid-range brand they’ve been since they arrived but they flex and tighten across his ass as he walks and David can’t take his eyes off him. 

With a sigh and a regretful backward glance at the cheese, he follows Patrick towards the goat enclosure. Somehow Patrick has found some goat food and he’s letting goats lick the pellets from his hand, a shiver of disgust runs down David’s spine.

“I can’t believe you’re letting them touch you. And slobber on you.”

“They’re cute.” One of the larger goats is nibbling gently at Patrick’s fingers. Up close David can see that the goat’s pupils are sideways. It makes them look spooky and knowing. He doesn’t like it. 

“I’m never letting you touch me with that hand again.” He stops short, his face flushing. Patrick touches him all the time, he’s touched him so many times today that David’s lost count, but by some unspoken agreement, they’ve never talked about the casual physical affection that’s grown between them.

Patrick doesn’t seem to notice his slip. “There’s disinfectant over there.” He nods to a portable hand sanitizer stand that’s been set up nearby. “I knew you wouldn’t like it if I was all goaty for dinner.” Patrick pours the last few goat pellets into his palm and offers it to one of the smaller goats. The concentration on his face as he watches the goat is adorable and David can’t help himself from snapping a photo. 

He makes Patrick reapply the sanitizer three times before he’s satisfied that there’s no trace of goat remaining. Just to tease him, Patrick insists on using that hand to hold David’s. He wants to pull away, but as always, the feel of Patrick’s hand is too enticing.

“Where are we going next?”

“You’ll see.”

“There had better not be any more farm animals. I’ve seen all the livestock I need to in this lifetime.”

“No more livestock.” Patrick is grinning broadly, the look he gives David is filled with equal parts affection and amusement.

David puts his cheese in the back seat of the car with the tarts before getting into the front seat beside Patrick. Instead of starting the car, Patrick looks over at him, his eyes are thoughtful and there’s a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad I came with you this week, David.”

A fluttery feeling moves through him, as though a flock of butterflies are trapped in his chest. “You haven’t been to my mom’s party yet, so you might not want to commit to that.”

He expects Patrick to laugh, but he just looks at him, his eyes steady and searching. David has had interactions with border guards that were less intense. He wants to look away but Patrick’s gaze has him pinned. He clears his throat instead. “I’m...I’m glad you came too.” He toys with the bracelet, running the links between his fingers. He can feel rather than hear them clinking against each other. “My birthdays are usually awful and this one...hasn’t been.”

Patrick laughs now. “Glad I’m ranking somewhere above awful. If I tell you there’s wine at the next stop, can I get a higher ranking?”

“That is a definite possibility, but it depends on the quality of the wine.”

“Good to know.” Patrick finally puts the car into gear and they drive back to the highway. They’re both quiet and David is grateful for the silence, as he tries to process what’s happening between him and Patrick. Is this what relationships are supposed to be like? None of his past relationships had prepared him for this heady mix of laughter and wanting and trust that he feels for Patrick. It’s a cruel twist of fate that the best relationship he’s ever had is fake. 

Patrick pulls into a narrow driveway, lined with trees that overhang the road. The close tunnel of leaves is like driving into another world. At the end of the lane, a sign tells them they’ve arrived at Kettle Creek Vineyards. Patrick parks the car in front of a suite of stone buildings surrounded by fields of grapevines. It’s early evening now and the shadows along the road are long, the light is deepening. As they get out of the car, David can see the reddish highlights in Patrick’s hair.

“Are we having pre-dinner drinks?”

“They have a restaurant. No Michelin stars, but I’ve heard it’s pretty good.”

David makes them sample all the different wines before they have dinner, determined to choose the perfect one. Finally he settles on a pinot grigio that is bright and citrusy. They’ve just finished ordering, salmon for David and lamb for Patrick with a charcuterie plate to start when a voice calls out.

“David?”

He looks up, but before he can reply, a pair of lips are being pressed to his own. It’s hard to notice anything else, but he senses Patrick tense and pull away. The woman steps back before reaching out a hand and wiping the lipstick off his lips with an impeccably manicured thumb. 

“Jillian.”

“Elliott said you were here.” Her eyes land on Patrick and she looks him up and down. “Who’s this?”

David reaches over and takes Patrick’s hand. For a split second, Patrick flinches away before allowing his hand to relax in David’s. “This is my boy..friend, my boyfriend, Patrick.”

“Are you sure?” Jillian’s laughter rings out and patrons at the other tables look at them curiously. 

“He’s sure.” Patrick’s voice is low and intense and he’s not smiling as he stares at Jillian. He flips his hand over to tangle his fingers with David’s.

“But not for long, am I right?” Her smile is bright and fake and David’s stomach churns uneasily. He doesn’t know what to say and Patrick just stares at Jillian until her laugh trails away uncertainly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She’s flustered now, trying to cover it up as she winds her way through the tables. 

Once she’s gone, Patrick pulls his hand away and the knot in David’s stomach gets bigger. Patrick plays with his butter knife for a second before he looks up at him. “I don’t like your friends.”

“They’re...uh...they’re not really my friends. Um...Stevie’s my friend and um...you...if you want to be but Jillian is not my friend.” If he hadn’t been watching Patrick’s face he wouldn’t have seen the softening around his mouth, the tiny tightening as the corners of his lips turn up imperceptibly. 

“You should tell people who aren’t your friends to stop kissing you.” David raises an eyebrow at the implication that Patrick could kiss him and Patrick blushes bright red. Before he can say anything, they’re interrupted by their server bringing their appetizer.

The food has the same farm fresh taste that the tarts and the cheese had earlier that day and he relishes every mouthful. He’s finishing the last bite of his meal when he notices Patrick smirking at him. 

“So it must have been okay, even without the Michelin stars.”

“It was moderately edible, yes.” He smiles back at Patrick, wanting to provoke him to make him laugh and smile because he’s being ridiculous. As he hopes, it works and Patrick laughs back at him.

“So you won’t want any moderately edible dessert then?”

“I didn’t say that.” He lays his hand on the table, secretly hoping Patrick will hold his hand again. Not that he has any reason to hold his hand, since they aren’t actually dating. So why does this evening feel more real than so many other dates he’s been on? He tries not to over analyze it for fear of chasing it away like a startled bird.

Before he can review the dessert menu, their waitress appears. She’s carrying a small chocolate cake with a single lit candle on the top. “Happy birthday, Mr Rose.”

“Thank you.” He looks at Patrick, who shrugs back at him. 

“It’s your birthday.”

“You’ve done more than enough.”

“I mean, I didn’t sing you Happy Birthday, so there’s still more that I could do.”

“Like I said, you’ve done more than enough.” He takes a bite of the cake, it’s moist and gooey, it dissolves on his tongue. He sighs in appreciation before he nudges the plate to the center of the table to share with Patrick.

He scrapes his fork through the last traces of icing, wanting to make sure he’s eaten every last bite. He puts down his fork and looks across the table at Patrick. 

“Thank you for dinner. And today.” He rests his hand back on the table, hoping again that Patrick will reach for him. Patrick smiles at him, but he doesn’t move towards him. In fact, David realizes, Patrick hasn’t touched him since Jillian interrupted them. David takes another drink of wine and a deep breath.

“Um...you’ve probably figured this out already, but a lot of people in my life are like Jillian.” Patrick looks at him from across the table and his fingers clench around the extra teaspoon from his place setting.

“You don’t owe me any explanation here, David.”

“I want to tell you. Even though this isn’t real between us, I’ve had more fun with you than I’ve ever had with anyone else. And I wanted you to know that.” A guarded look falls over Patrick’s face that David can’t quite interpret before it softens and Patrick smiles at him warmly.

“It’s been fun for me too.” At last, Patrick reaches across the table and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together.

Back at Stevie’s, he leaves the case of wine in the car, handing two bottles to Patrick as he grabs a third bottle and scoops up the tarts and the cheese from the back seat. 

“How much wine do you think we’re going to drink tonight?”

“Who said anything about ‘we’?”

Inside, he leaves one bottle on the kitchen counter for Stevie and he tucks the cheese and tarts into the fridge. He rummages through the cupboard drawers until he finds Stevie’s corkscrew and two wine glasses and together they head out to the back porch. The sun is setting over the lake, turning the faint ripples in the water into orange and gold. 

David sets the wine and the glasses on the coffee table. Selecting a bottle of merlot, he uses the corkscrew to pull out the cork and pours two glasses. He hands one to Patrick and curls up on one end of the couch, secretly pleased when Patrick sits beside him instead of choosing one of the other chairs. 

He takes a drink and looks out at the lake. The geese have returned, he can hear them honking quietly to each other. The sun has almost set and the heat of the day is leaving with it, as though it’s evaporating from the air. The moment feels heavy, reflective and he has a sudden desire to share his past with Patrick. Or at the very least, a heavily curated version of his past. 

When he speaks, he can tell Patrick’s thoughts are following the same path. “Did you know I used to work at a Rose Video in high school?”

“It may shock you to learn that I don’t keep tabs on all of Rose Videos employees. I bet you looked very cute in your red and black polo.” It makes him smile to think of a teenage Patrick dutifully restocking videos. Was his hair longer then, he wonders, envisioning the curls that Patrick’s shorter style just hints at.

“Mmm. My friends loved that I could get first dibs on all the new releases.”

“Wait. Wasn’t that against store policy?” He likes this version of a younger, rebellious Patrick, one who breaks the rules.

“Are you gonna report me to your dad?”

“I...I’m just surprised you would break the rules like that.” He’s reminded of their conversation from yesterday, when Patrick had said David thought he was boring.

“David. You should stop making assumptions about me.” The statement is laden with meaning and David has to look away. “What about you? Any summer jobs?”

“Well, when I was fourteen, I did an ad for the GAP and my mom made me play her son on Sunrise Bay for two weeks because the other actor quit without notice.”

“Uh huh.” Patrick grins at him over the rim of his glass. “I seem to recall another set of promotional videos…”

“Oh my god…” He hides his face in his hands, knowing what’s coming next.

Patrick pitches his voice higher. “Hi! I’m David Rose! And if you’re a teenager like I am…”

“Stop.” His cheeks are hot, but despite his embarrassment, he can’t keep from smiling at Patrick’s teasing.

“For what it’s worth, your movie recommendations always did better than your sister’s or your mom’s.”

“What can I say, I’ve always been known for my good taste.”

They’ve polished off the first bottle of wine and combined with the wine from dinner, David is feeling relaxed and a little drunk. The sun has set and it’s cooling off. He pulls the blanket from the back of the couch, shaking it out to its full extent. Patrick grabs the corner nearest to him and tucks it around himself, David can feel his body heat, an island of warmth in the cool night air. He shifts over so that his arm presses against Patrick’s, happy to feel Patrick return the pressure.

“How did you end up owning the town, anyway?”

“My dad bought it as a joke. He gives the worst gifts. One time, he bought me a basketball court and he wouldn’t take it down until I broke my nose.”

“It’s not that bad. If he hadn’t bought the town, we wouldn’t be here.” Patrick’s arm presses against his again, warm and inviting.

“Yeah.” His drunken brain tries to catch up to the conversation, stretching out the word. “I’ve never done this before.” He must be drunker than he thought if he’s indulging in this sort of honesty. 

“Okay.” Patrick is quiet for a long moment. “Um...done what exactly?”

“Just sat and talked with someone. We’ve talked so much over the past few days and I’ve never done that, usually any talking I do is about sex and when it’s over the people I’m with haven’t been very interested in conversations or learning things about me.” He’s had too much to drink. Or maybe not enough. Maybe if he has more to drink, he won’t remember this conversation in the morning. He leans forward abruptly so that he can pour more wine into his glass, dislodging the blanket from Patrick’s shoulders.

Patrick grabs at the blanket with one hand, he rests his other hand in the middle of David’s back. “I know I’ve only met two of the people from your past, but I can say confidently that they’re terrible people.” Patrick is rubbing his back, David arches into his touch and Patrick’s hand stops briefly before continuing again. David gulps down his wine and leans back, but he’s off-kilter and he ends up with his back pressed halfway against Patrick’s chest. He’s about to pull away when Patrick’s arm wraps around him, holding him close. 

The temptation to snuggle into Patrick is overwhelming, but even in his drunken state he doesn’t want to turn his relationship with Patrick into something he’ll regret. 

“This isn’t okay.” He staggers to his feet, heaving himself away from Patrick and landing in the armchair next to the couch. The blanket tangles in his feet, falling from Patrick’s lap onto the floor.

“David?” Patrick’s voice is tight, it scrapes against David’s ears.

“You...we...you don’t have to pretend. You deserve better. Oh god, I’m really drunk.” The room is spinning, so he closes his eyes. It doesn’t help. “You’re so fucking nice, why are you so fucking nice to me?”

Patrick doesn’t respond and David opens his eyes just enough to squint at him. Patrick hasn’t moved and he’s staring at David intently. “Maybe it’s because I like you.”

“Nobody likes me. I’m not likeable. Fuckable on the other hand, I’m very fuckable.” 

“Whatever you say, David.” Patrick looks sad but it must just be the wine. “Do you think you’re going to remember this in the morning?”

“Uhhh...remember what?”

“Good.” Patrick’s hands cup David’s face and he surges to meet him, eager to chase away his drunken confusion about how he feels about Patrick with the familiarity of sex, his earlier commitment to preserving their friendship forgotten. But instead of kissing him on the lips, Patrick presses a kiss to David’s forehead. “I like you, David.” He moves his hands towards Patrick, sliding them along the waist of his jeans, seeking skin, but Patrick captures them, holding them gently away from his body. “I think it’s time for bed.”

“Mmm...bed.” He tries to grab Patrick again, but Patrick holds his wrists firmly.

“Nope. Just water, sleep and Tylenol for you.” 

He pouts at Patrick, but somehow Patrick pulls him out of the chair and pushes him towards the stairs before he can react to what’s going on. He’s staring at the photo of Stevie’s great-aunt that’s hanging at the foot of the stairs when Patrick catches up to him. A distant part of his brain is grateful to Patrick for tidying up the wine bottles and glasses so that Stevie won’t yell at him in the morning.

“Are you going to sleep here in the hallway or…?”

“Wanna sleep with you.” He doesn’t understand why Patrick turns bright pink at that statement. Patrick is warm and nice and David slept better last night than he has in months. Plus, his bed would feel empty without him.

“Okay, well, you’re going to have to go up those stairs because that’s where your bed is.”

He trails after Patrick as they climb the stairs together; he ends up sitting on the edge of the bed without entirely remembering how he got there. He watches Patrick gather some things and disappear into the ensuite bathroom. He emerges a few minutes later with two Tylenol and a glass of water. Patrick waits until he’s swallowed the pills. “Drink that. All of it.” The door of the bathroom swings closed behind him.

He kicks off his Ugg boots and finishes the water, shoving the covers out of the way so he can flop onto his pillow. He’s just barely conscious when Patrick comes out of the bathroom. He flips off the lights and gets into the other side of the bed. Patrick’s voice is the last thing he hears before he passes out.

“Happy birthday, David.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Saturday**

When he wakes up the next morning, there’s something heavy pressing him into the mattress. Someone, his brain corrects groggily. Sunlight is streaming in the window, Patrick’s arm is holding him in place, his face is tucked into the side of David’s neck, his breath is soft and even against David’s skin. He feels sticky and when he opens his eyes he realizes he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes. There’s a dull throbbing at the back of his skull, but he’s had worse and a couple of Tylenol will chase it away. He stares at the ceiling, trying to remember what happened last night.

He remembers Patrick talking about Rose Video and telling the story about the basketball court and there’s an image in his mind of Patrick looking almost unbearably sad at something he said. Given that he’s still wearing his clothes, he’s pretty sure they didn’t have sex, he just hopes he didn’t do anything too embarrassing. He closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Patrick’s arm resting across his chest.

The warmth from Patrick’s body is seeping into his. It’s cozy, lying here, warm and relaxed, so why does it feel like a swarm of bees is spinning beneath his skin? Tingles and prickles are rippling out from where Patrick’s arm is laying, from where his fingers press gently against his bicep. He wants to stay here forever even as he feels like he could leap out of his skin.

Patrick’s breathing is making the hair on his neck flutter back and forth, tickling the back of his ear. With glacial speed he lifts his hand to scratch the itch, not wanting to disturb Patrick. He’s lowering his hand back to the mattress when he feels Patrick come awake beside him, his fingers curl purposefully around his arm. David’s breath catches as Patrick’s warm brown eyes open and meet his. Patrick’s body goes still as he realizes where he is. 

“God, sorry.” Even as he apologizes, Patrick’s arm remains across his body for a moment too long. He doesn’t sound sorry, instead he looks almost pleased with himself as he finally pulls back to his side of the bed.

“Hi.” The tingly feeling has concentrated itself in his stomach. One more day. This time tomorrow they can get ready to leave and he can push this feeling away where it belongs.

“Hi.” Patrick’s smile gets even larger and David clenches his hand into a fist to prevent himself from reaching over to rub his thumb along his lips. “How are you feeling?”

He winces at the question. If Patrick is asking, he must have been pretty drunk. “Fine.” 

He hopes Patrick won’t press him, but he just smiles. “Big party tonight.”

David nods against the pillow, regretting the movement immediately. “We should go early, my mom will want someone to agree with all of her last minute decisions.”

“And that someone is you?”

“Generally, yes. My dad has no taste and Alexis...well, who knows where Alexis will be. She might be breaking out of an Balinese prison by the time the party rolls around.”

“I guess you’ll find out when she posts on Instagram.”

He laughs. “It wouldn’t be the first time.” Patrick laughs along with him and he relishes the feeling that someone is in his corner.

“Breakfast first?”

“Have we met? Of course we’re having breakfast first.” 

In the bathroom, he downs a couple of painkillers and takes his time in the shower, taking extra care to make up for missing his skincare routine last night. When he comes downstairs Patrick is sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, an empty plate in front of him. It’s oddly domestic, as though David has accidentally wandered into a Norman Rockwell painting.

“Where did that come from?”

“Stevie had it. It’s a year old, but I thought I should find out what I’m getting into.” Patrick shows him the paper, the headline reads **Rose bash a real circus.** The accompanying photo is of his mother dressed as a circus ringmaster.

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” He’s not sure he can get through the day without Patrick. 

“And miss seeing this in person? Not a chance.” Patrick folds up the newspaper and sets it on the table. “I’m going to grab a quick shower before we go.” On his way past he squeezes David’s shoulder gently before disappearing up the stairs. David can feel the imprint of his fingers long after he’s disappeared upstairs.

He helps himself to a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table. He’s savouring the first sip when Stevie appears and sets a plate with an omelet on it in front of him. 

“How was your night?” She sits across from him, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Fine.” The omelet is delicious and it’s exactly what he wants now that his head has stopped pounding. Stevie is staring at him and he sets down his fork. “What?”

“I’ve barely seen you.” She sounds curious, not accusatory. She lets the words hang in the air for what feels like an eternity. “Seems like you and Patrick have been spending a lot of time together?”

“It’s not like he knows anyone else here.” He picks up his fork and takes another bite. He knows she won’t let this go, so he might as well finish his breakfast.

“Mmm hmm. So it’s not that you want to spend all your free time with him?” Stevie takes a sip of her coffee, peering at him over the rim of the mug.

“Nope. Just trying to be a good host.” He pushes his empty plate away, trying to decide if he wants leftover fruit tarts as a second course.

“Okay.” Stevie eyes him appraisingly. “He’s a lot different than any of your other friends.”

“I know. He’s nice.” He rolls his eyes at her even as the words _why are you so fucking nice to me?_ are ricocheting around his brain, a random echo from last night that he can’t place.

“Seems to me that if I got to spend time with a nice guy after all the assholes you’ve dated, that I might want to hold on to that.”

“Well, it’s not up to me, is it?” He does want that. Given the choice he would hold on to Patrick as tightly as he could, never letting him go. But that’s not something that has ever been an option.

“Isn’t it?” Stevie’s eyes flick to something behind him and Patrick appears in the doorway, David can smell the citrus of his shampoo. 

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” He carries his plate and his coffee cup into the kitchen. Stevie follows him.

“Just think about it.” Stevie pours herself another cup of coffee. “And David? It could be up to you. If you wanted it to be.”

“I have to go.”

Outside, Patrick is leaning against the car, his arms crossed across his chest. David’s gaze is pulled to the flex of muscle along the line of his forearms. 

“Everything okay?”

“Mmm hmm, yep. It’s just that it was my birthday yesterday and I may have had a lot of alcohol last night.”

“Is that right?” Patrick grins at him. “I never noticed.”

At his parent’s house, the driveway is even more crowded than it had been earlier in the week. He squeezes into a spot at the end of a row of cars and they walk to the front door. Inside, his mom greets them as though she’s been waiting for them. She’s alone in the entranceway, but he can hear the murmur and bustle of people from other parts of the house.

“David, you’ve finally arrived. And you’ve brought Pete…”

“Patrick.”

“Yes, Patrick. I don’t understand why you insisted on staying elsewhere. It’s so inconvenient.” His mom raises her eyebrows at him, demanding a response.

“You gave away my room to someone else!” It had only been three days ago, how had she forgotten?

“I don’t think that’s what happened.”

He huffs at her and Patrick places his hand at the small of his back. He leans into it and the pressure from Patrick’s hand increases.

“Anyway David, I need your help.” He rolls his eyes knowingly at Patrick, who grins back at him, his hand is still on David’s back like it’s glued there. It’s as though Patrick can hold him up just with that quiet touch.

Ahead of them, his mom is marching into the main hall, her six-inch heels are ringing on the marble floor. People are everywhere, most of them are from the catering staff, setting up cocktail tables and tableware around the edges of the room but David also recognizes many of the household staff from his parents’ house in New York.

His mom careens to a stop and he almost crashes into her, Patrick steadies him with a quick clasp of his shoulder. “Do you think we should have both black and white cocktail tables?”

“I think the black ones are fine.” Patrick is staring at the room, his eyes wide. Cocktail tables are scattered along the edges of the room and a small stage has been set up at the far end. Overhead, strings of patio lights have been strung across the space, David knows that the gold and crystal details in the black and white centerpieces will sparkle when they’re turned on. 

“David, you have to come help me pick out the shoes and jewels to wear this evening.” His mom links her arm with his and pulls him towards the back stairs. He feels Patrick’s arm fall away.

“I’ll just stay down here.”

“Okay, I’ll come find you. There’s a library back that way if you want to avoid all of this.”

Hours later he’s finally convinced his mom that her original choices of shoes and jewelry and wigs are the correct ones so he goes in search of Patrick. The main hall is empty, the decorations and tables are in place for the arrival of the food and the guests in a few hours. There’s no sign of Patrick but in the distance he hears a piano. 

He stops in the doorway of the library. Patrick is sitting at the grand piano on the far side of the room, his back is to the door and his head is bent over the keys as he plays. He’s more humming than singing, but David can just make out words.

_“...it’s mostly to yourself that you lie…”_

It’s beautiful and deeply sad, as though Patrick is throwing the words back in time to a past version of himself. David needs to pierce the moment, to shatter this image before it cuts him so he clears his throat. Patrick lifts his hands from the keys and turns to face him. Their eyes meet across the room and it’s as though Patrick can see through him. He shivers, wishing he had a blanket or an extra sweater to hide behind, to prevent Patrick from seeing the things that live inside him. 

“Is this okay?”

“Mmm hmm. Yup.” He moves across the room to sit on the bench beside Patrick. “I’m surprised it’s in tune, I think the last time anyone played it was when Alexis was dating Josh Groban.”

“Well, that’s definitely out of my league.” Patrick rests his hands gently on the keys and plays a couple of notes.

“I think you’re pretty good.” David runs his index finger along the keys in front of him, tracing the edges and shape of them so he won’t have to see the intensity in Patrick’s eyes. 

“Thanks.” Patrick’s voice is soft and David risks looking at him. The air feels heavy, it’s hard to breathe and he can feel every shift of Patrick’s body beside him. He wants...he can’t...fuck it, he thinks and he puts his hand at the back of Patrick’s neck and pulls his mouth to his.

He isn’t sure what Patrick will do. He can’t quite believe that Patrick is really interested in him, but Patrick’s lips are confident and eager as they meet his and the short, simple kiss turns into something deeper, something more intense. There’s a discordant noise as Patrick’s hand falls from the piano keys onto his leg. His fingers dig into David’s thigh hard enough to leave bruises.

He breaks away from the kiss, sliding his hand from Patrick’s neck down the line of his back, he quivers beneath David’s hand as he touches him. Patrick’s head goes back just enough to expose his neck and David has to fight the impulse to lick and bite his throat. Patrick still hasn’t said anything and the nerves rise inside him. Maybe this has been a mistake.

“God, I’ve wanted you to do that since we got here.” Patrick’s voice is rough and he closes his eyes for a moment as though he can’t bear to look at David.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He presses his hand to the small of Patrick’s back.

Patrick’s eyes snap open. “You kept talking about how everything was fake. What was I supposed to do?”

He shakes his head. For the first time he’s nearly screwed up a relationship by not doing anything instead of doing too much. It’s a new and not entirely unwelcome feeling. He leans in to kiss Patrick again, softly this time. 

He longs to push Patrick against the piano, to find out how much noise it would make beneath them but there are a million reasons that’s a bad idea. Not that second thoughts have stopped him before, but this feels different and he wants to take his time with it. He pulls away and rubs his thumb along Patrick’s bottom lip. A tiny sliver of space appears between Patrick’s lips and David’s breath catches. “I think we have a party to get ready for.”

Patrick inhales sharply and he reaches to close the lid of the piano, his hands are shaking slightly. “Yeah...let’s do that.”

David gets up from the piano bench, his hand reaching back for Patrick before he can stop it. The relief he feels when Patrick’s fingers tangle with his is unexpected and he can’t keep himself from smiling goofily at him. 

He pulls Patrick along, heading back to the walk-in closet on the second floor where their clothes for the party are. He doesn’t want to run into anyone he knows so he takes them up the backstairs behind the kitchen, Patrick’s hand tightly grasps his as they stagger up the carpeted steps together. He feels drunk again, but clear-headed at the same time. They make it to the landing and Patrick pushes him against the wall, the ledge from the window digging into his back as Patrick’s hand grips his hair and David whines in response to the kiss and his hair, all of it.

“God, David.” Patrick mumbles against his lips. “At this rate we might not make it to the party.”

“Uh huh…” He wants Patrick to stop talking. He can’t kiss him properly when he’s talking. For a second he considers it, thinks about finding an empty room and spending the next few hours showing Patrick everything he wants to do to him. He pulls back so he can see Patrick’s face. He’s flushed, his cheeks and ears are pink and eyes pupils are wide. Patrick’s hands slide to his shoulders and he pushes a little, forcing David to take half a step back.

“I want you.” Patrick looks away as though the words are hard to say. “But we can’t do this now.” David can hear the faintest quaver beneath Patrick’s words and he brings his hands up to wrap around Patrick’s wrists. He lets out a deep breath, forcing himself to think about the right thing to do instead of what he wants to do. 

“Okay.” He tugs Patrick’s hands off of his shoulders and rubs his thumbs along the backs of his hands. 

“That’s...that’s not really helping, David.”

“Right. Sorry.” He forces his hands to be still, not wanting to sever his connection with Patrick. He lets go of Patrick’s left hand so they can continue to walk up the stairs, trying to keep his hand as still as possible. “Is this okay?”

Patrick swallows roughly. “It’s manageable.” His fingers twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to stroke David’s hand.

As the walk up the stairs, his thoughts start to spiral. He should have known he’d be too much for Patrick, that Patrick would pull back. He was too much for everyone and he’d shared more of himself with Patrick over the past few days than he ever had with anyone; it was no wonder that Patrick was pulling away from him. 

Before he can open the door to the walk-in closet, Patrick pulls them to a stop, turning so he can look David in the eye. “Not now doesn’t mean never. It just means somewhere other than the empty hallways of your parents’ house.”

“Usually people wait until after we’ve slept together for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech.” He can’t keep the anxiety out of his voice as he drops Patrick’s hand, staring at the floor.

“That is not what this is.” Patrick waits and waits and waits until David lifts his eyes to meet his. The longing in them goes straight through him. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this. I’ve never wanted another guy like this. So not now. But soon.” Patrick leans forward and kisses David sweetly, David can feel the heat and longing that Patrick is holding back. 

“Okay.” Normally he would assume that Patrick was just playing with him, but he’s so straightforward and nice that David has to take him at his word. Once again the words _why are you so fucking nice to me?_ rebound inside him, disconnected from everything else. 

He reaches behind him to open the door, switching on the light as they enter the room. Their clothes are hanging on one of the hooks beside the door. He plucks the hangers off the hooks and crosses the hallway to the bathroom, leaving the closet for Patrick. He’s gone with a more formal look than what he chose for Patrick. The three-piece suit is cut in a vintage style, but the black wool fits his aesthetic. 

The door on the other side of the hall is still closed when he’s done getting dressed. He paces back and forth, tugging on the cuffs of his shirt, unable to keep still. Finally, Patrick steps out into the hall. The borrowed clothes don’t fit him perfectly, to David’s exacting eye the fit is loose in the shoulders and across the chest. Even so, the reddish tones in the vest and pants highlight Patrick’s hair and eyes and the white dress shirt brings the outfit together. Patrick has left the bow tie undone again and David swallows when he sees it. 

“I…” He reaches for the loose ends. “Can I?” Patrick nods and closes his eyes as David fixes the bow tie. It takes him two tries to get it right, he’s out of practice doing this for someone else and his hands don’t want to cooperate. He gives it one last tug and brushes his hands along Patrick’s shoulders. “You look good.” David can’t take his eyes off him.

“I...I feel kind of silly.” He’s rolling his shoulders and tugging on the edge of the vest. “This is a lot for a house party.”

“Well, if you keep doing that you will look silly.” He squeezes Patrick’s shoulders. “No one will be looking at you except me and I think you look great.”

Patrick looks at him then and it’s a sign of how uncomfortable he feels that David can tell he’s seeing him for the first time. Patrick’s eyes go dark as they trace the lines of David’s suit and the corners of his mouth curl up in a smile that’s almost predatory. He leans in as though he’s going to press a kiss to David’s check but instead he whispers in his ear. “You look fucking amazing.”

He flushes, feeling the compliment down through the tips of his toes. “Shall we?” They walk down the hall together, he reaches for Patrick’s hand, stroking his thumb across Patrick’s knuckles when he feels their fingers tangle together. 

At the bottom of the stairs, he scans the room. On the far side, he can see that Alexis and her friend have cornered a pair of the Hansen brothers near the bar. Alexis is wearing a short, silver flapper-style dress and there’s an ostrich plume in her hair. At the front of the room, a jazz trio is playing softly, even though the music fades into the background, the dance floor is full. 

“David!”

His mom’s dress is made of black and silver sequins. Along the bottom hem, a foot-long fringe of beads and crystals moves and shimmers. The ostrich feather fascinator adds an extra eighteen inches to her height. David isn’t sure if the black boots with the six-inch heels are authentic to the period, but he knows she wouldn’t be without them.

“David, I need to talk to you about my performance this evening. Barry Manilow has informed me that he is unable to attend!” She gestures with the champagne glass in her hand, making the contents slosh alarmingly.

“You’re just telling me about this now? When did he cancel?” With all of the conversations they’d had about the party, his mom had never mentioned Barry Manilow. For a brief second he wondered if she had even remembered to invite him.

“That’s not important.” His mom waves a hand in the air, looking away. “What’s important is finding a piano player at the last minute.”

His eyes slide to Patrick. “What...um...what songs are you doing?”

“It’s a medley of Ain’t Misbehavin’, Singin’ in the Rain and Sweet Georgia Brown.”

He looks at Patrick again and Patrick raises an eyebrow at him in response. “Can you give us a minute?”

“David, this isn’t the time to canoodle with your boyfriend!” 

“Just. Give. Us. A. Minute.” He pulls Patrick to one side, hopefully out of earshot.

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this…” He runs his hands up Patrick’s arms, resting them on his shoulders. Patrick’s lips are pressed together and David hopes that means he wants to laugh.

“I don’t know the last song. I’ve played the other two, but it’s been awhile. Maybe if you can find some sheet music?” Patrick’s smile is wide and David is relieved to see that he’s definitely holding back his laughter.

“Are you saying you’ll actually do it?” He can’t keep his fingers from running along the collar of Patrick’s shirt. Patrick shivers slightly.

“If you want me to.” The simple response takes his breath away. He wonders what other things Patrick would do for him if he asked. Out of nowhere the words _why are you so fucking nice to me_ creep into his mind. He pushes them away and looks to where his mom is waiting impatiently.

“Patrick says he’ll play for you if you’ve got the sheet music.”

“Oh David, this isn’t one of those situations where you’ve made promises to your latest paramour, is it?” His mom hands him her empty champagne glass and he looks at her in disbelief.

“No, it’s not. And it’s not like you have much choice.” Before he can withdraw the offer, Patrick steps in.

“I’m no Barry Manilow, but I’ve been playing since I was eight. And besides, don’t we want all the attention to be on your beautiful singing?” It’s the right thing to say. His mom beams at Patrick and slips her arm through his, pulling him towards the stage. 

David calls after them. “Just one song!”

Through the crowd he spots Stevie working her way towards him. She’s wearing a flapper-style black dress and her hair is pulled back in a style that he suspects Alexis had a hand in styling. She’s carrying two full glasses of champagne as she weaves around the dancers and other people. 

“Did they not have any formal wear in plaid?” He gestures to her dress with a smirk.

Stevie’s eyes narrow, ready to retaliate. “I don’t know, David, your look is kind of...basic...don’t you think?” He turns to place his mom’s empty glass on a nearby table as he takes a full one from Stevie.

“I’ll have you know that this is an authentic period piece.” He gestures to his outfit, giving a small shimmy.

“It’s just kind of...boring. I expected more.”

“Okay.” He drinks half of the champagne, setting the glass on a nearby cocktail table. 

“Did your mom kidnap your _boyfriend_?” 

He flushes at the word, hoping that it’s dark enough that Stevie won’t notice. Unfortunately, Stevie notices everything. “Wait. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on.” He looks for an escape, knowing there isn’t one.

“You kissed him.” It’s not a question.

“I don’t want to talk about it. If I talk about it I’ll jinx it. It’s bad enough we’re having this conversation.” 

Amazingly, Stevie doesn’t push. She just gives him a look before she changes the subject. “So where is he, anyway?”

Before he can answer, the strings of patio lights are dimmed and a spotlight appears over the stage, his mom steps out, the sound of a piano quietly following her as she moves into the middle of the platform. He nods towards the stage and Stevie follows his gaze. The spotlight broadens and he can see Patrick at the piano. He plays the first notes and his mom starts on the first song of the medley. Patrick joins in on the chorus.

_...ain’t misbehavin’, I’m saving my love for you..._

Patrick looks up as he sings the line and even though David knows that Patrick can’t see him through the brightness of the spotlight, he feels like Patrick is looking directly at him. His voice has a twang to it that he should find off-putting but instead makes his knees feel weak. He’s completely exposed, as if everyone can see that Patrick is singing the words only for him. He glances at Stevie and she looks back at him, her eyes thoughtful.

The song ends and his mom turns to hold her hand out to Patrick. “Thank you, thank you, to my substitute pianist, Peter.” Patrick grins and kisses her hand before stepping off the stage and making his way to David and Stevie.

He meets Patrick halfway across the room, coming to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. Patrick gives him a soft smile as they come together. “Hi.”

“Hi.” 

“Do you, um, want to dance?” He feels like he’s back in high school, trying to find the courage to ask the cool boy to dance with him.

As though he can sense David’s apprehension, Patrick smiles gently and holds out his hand. “Sure.”

He turns to place his arms around Patrick’s neck as Patrick slides his hands along his waist inside his suit jacket. It feels natural. Just like their conversation and the teasing and the feel of Patrick’s hand in his own, it’s easy. 

“Thank you. For helping my mom.” 

“Shouldn’t you be thanking Peter?”

“I’ll thank him later.” He bends to kiss Patrick, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He likes how Patrick’s body fits against his, the way his arms surround him, the way he has to bend his head to kiss him. The press of Patrick’s lips is soft, but his fingers are digging into David’s back under his suit jacket. It’s a kiss suitable for a public place and yet it feels more intense than any kiss David can remember. A shudder runs through him, a tinge of hidden panic about what this might become. 

They move together, he teases the hair at the back of Patrick’s neck and feels him shiver. He wants to hold this moment, to memorize every detail so that when things disintegrate as they inevitably will, he can remember what this feels like. 

He slides his hand along Patrick’s jaw, tilting his head just enough as he ducks to kiss him, gently and sweetly. Heat hums beneath the surface of the kiss but he can’t tell if it’s coming from Patrick or himself. He pulls back and Patrick whines at him, so he kisses him again.

The jazz trio has changed up the song to something more upbeat. The couples around them on the dance floor are pretending they know how to swing dance with mixed results. He and Patrick are barely moving, the other dancers are having to move around them. He wants to stay like this forever, lost in Patrick but his stomach growls loudly above the music and Patrick laughs. “I better feed you before I regret it.”

“I won’t say no.” He lets Patrick lead them back to where Stevie is sitting at one of the round dinner tables at the edge of the room. He kisses Patrick’s cheek as Patrick pulls out a chair beside Stevie’s.

“I’ll be right back.” He winds through the tables to where the catering staff are dispensing meals for the evening. It had taken his mom three weeks of texts and emails to decide on the menu, but it looks delicious. He picks up the two plates and is about to make his way back to Patrick when a voice calls his name.

“David.” 

“Elliott. Jillian” Elliott has opted for a red and white striped jacket over a white shirt with black pants and straw boater hat. Beside him, Jillian is wearing an emerald green flapper-style dress.

“Saw you on the dance floor.” Elliott’s eyes flick towards where Patrick and Stevie are sitting. “He seems really into you.”

“Yeah, but now it looks like your boyfriend is having a great time with that townie girl.” Jillian gestures at him with the full-length cigarette holder that she’s carrying.

A jolt of fear runs through him and he sets the plates down on a nearby cocktail table. He narrows his eyes at them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Elliott laughs. “I guess he must just like your sparkling personality. Isn’t that what everyone sees in you?” Elliott leers at him.

“He’s just...nice.” He clenches his jaw. Patrick is nice. He’s nice to everyone in the same way he’s nice to David. Once again,_ why are you so fucking nice to me?_ pinballs around inside him. The back of his throat gets even tighter.

“Oh, c’mon David.” Jillian laughs at him. “We all know why people are nice to you.” She runs her hand down his arm and the two of them turn back to their friends.

The tension that’s been building inside him since he kissed Patrick in the library rises, clawing at the back of his throat, demanding release. 

This is stupid, he reminds himself. He twists his hands together, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Patrick is too nice to do what everyone else has always done to him. He looks over to where Patrick and Stevie are laughing together. He crosses his arms over his chest, fingernails digging into his palms, his thoughts racing. He was stupid to think Patrick liked him for himself, that he wasn’t here for the same reasons as everyone else, for money and a good time. There’s a door behind him. He could vanish into the house, disappear until he never had to see Patrick again. He needs to know, he decides, striding towards the table.

“It’s a lie, isn’t it.” It’s a statement, not a question. “You’re just too nice to say anything so you’re just going along with everything.” He gestures at the room. 

“What?” Patrick looks confused and across the table he can see Stevie tense as though she’s about to jump between them.

“You don’t care about me. You’re only here because of all this.” His voice is high and scratchy.

Patrick’s face goes white but he stands to face him. “David…”

He can’t do this anymore. He spins, pushing past the other people and the chairs and tables to the back exit. As he passes the caterers, he has the foresight to grab a bottle of wine on his way by. He shoves his way out the back door to the pool. There aren’t as many people here. Three couples stand in a group to his left, laughing over their wine glasses and to his right a couple are cuddled together on one of the lounge chairs. He rushes to the back corner and tucks himself into the shadows beside the pool house. Alexis could find him if she was looking, but Patrick and Stevie won’t. 

He sits on the lounge chair and wraps his arms around his legs. The door opens and he sees Patrick step out onto the edge of the pool, scanning the darkness for him. After a long moment, Patrick sighs and turns to head back into the house. The door closes behind him.

He takes a swig of the wine. He was hungry before, but now his stomach is churning and all he wants to do is get completely and utterly drunk. The door opens again and Stevie appears. Without even looking around, she makes a beeline directly for him.

“How did you find me?”

Stevie shrugs. “It’s where I would have hidden.” Her eyes are softer than usual. “I’m taking Patrick home and then I’m coming back for you.”

“Okay.” He takes another drink of wine at the thought of having to sleep in the same bed as Patrick. The wine is bitter at the back of his tongue when he swallows. 

“You should…”

“I should what?” He cuts off her attempt to make him feel better.

Stevie smiles at him sympathetically. “Don’t drink too much.”

His earlier attempt at committing his moments with Patrick to memory has worked too well. He can see Patrick’s smile, feel his lips on his, his body in his arms. The ending isn’t a surprise, but the speed with which things have fallen apart might be some kind of record. It’s been less that six hours since he’d kissed Patrick by the piano. 

The wine bottle is empty. He’s not drunk enough, but he can’t face the thought of being seen by other people so he settles back into the shadows, resting his head against the back of the chair and closing his eyes.

The chaise lounge shifts beneath him as Stevie sits on the end of the chair and pats his leg. “Let’s go home.”

Back at the bed and breakfast, he opens the door to his room, expecting to have to face Patrick. Instead his things are gone, the shelves and nightstand are empty, as though he’d never been there. There’s a noise behind him and he turns to see that Stevie’s followed him up the stairs.

“That friend of Alexis’s left, so I gave Patrick her room.”

“Oh...good.” Relief and disappointment churn inside him.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Stevie’s looking at him intently, a glass of water in one hand.

It seems like such an inadequate word for what he feels for Patrick but he stares at her and nods helplessly.

“Then don’t you think you owe it to yourself to talk to him? Not now. It’s late and you’re drunk. But tomorrow?”

He nods again and she hands him the glass of water. “Drink this.” Stevie leaves, as the door closes behind her he can see the light beneath the crack of Patrick’s door. He waits until he hears Stevie go down the stairs before he opens the door again, his eyes fixed on the line of yellow seeping out from the edge of the door.

He walks down the hall, carefully placing each foot in front of the other, willing the floorboards to silence. He stops in front of Patrick’s door, listening for any sound within. He raises his hand to knock. What can he possibly say? Slowly, he lowers his hand and stands, staring at the closed door for a long moment before he turns and pads softly back to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The bed, which had seemed unbearably small before is too big now. He lies in the middle and stares at the ceiling.

“Goodnight David.” He whispers the words to himself until he falls asleep.

**Sunday**

He wakes up alone. He stares at Patrick’s untouched pillow for a long moment before rolling onto his back to glare at the ceiling. Sunlight is streaming in the windows, the blue sky is bright and hot. 

His hands clutch the edge of the comforter as he thinks back to yesterday. The way Patrick felt beneath him when he kissed him. The look on his face when David had stormed out of the party. With a groan, he pulls Patrick’s pillow over his face only to find that it smells like him, familiar and citrusy.

The scent unlocks a memory from the back of his mind. He hears himself ask the question that’s been tormenting him since yesterday. _Why are you so fucking nice to me?_ But this time he remembers Patrick’s response. _Maybe it’s because I like you._ He closes his eyes. It’s probably too late. 

He’s going to have to get up and face Patrick. With a sigh, he drags himself out of bed. Downstairs, Patrick’s bag is already packed, sitting by the door. In the kitchen, David fills a plate with food; out the window he sees Patrick standing on the dock, hands in his pockets as he stares at the lake. A lump forms in his throat and he turns away to find Stevie standing behind him. She raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anything.

“Hi.” He stares down at his plate.

“You look miserable.” For once, Stevie doesn’t sound happy about his misery.

“Shut up.” It’s a half-hearted response. He knows it won’t stop her.

“And Patrick was in here earlier, and he also seems miserable.” 

“So?”

“So, maybe someone who panicked last night might want to think about how he wants the rest of the day to go.”

He knows she’s right. He just doesn’t know how to have that conversation. He finishes his breakfast and goes upstairs to pack his things, his thoughts running in circles.

It takes three trips to bring all of his bags downstairs but he finally loads the last of his things into the car. Stevie hugs him goodbye. “Talk to him,” she whispers in his ear. He tries not to watch as she hugs Patrick. 

The silence in the car is absolute. It hangs over them like a cloud of toxic gas, smothering them, thwarting all attempts at conversation. He wants to turn on the radio but even that simple act makes him feel vulnerable. He stares straight ahead, eyes riveted to the lines on the road, counting down the kilometers until they’re back in the city. At one point, Patrick glances towards him, but when David looks back at him, he turns away to stare out the window, his shoulders set and tense.

They’ve been driving for an hour when David pulls into a roadside gas station. Neither of them have said a word since they got into the car. He fills up the car while Patrick goes into the convenience store. He’s finishing with the gas when Patrick returns, a bag of snacks in one hand. Back in the car, Patrick pulls out a package of mini donuts and hands it to David. They’re his favorite. 

“Thank you.” He whispers the words, not looking at Patrick.

Patrick opens his mouth as though he’s going to speak, but he changes his mind and opens his own snack, his lips pressed together.

Everything is confused inside him. He knows Stevie is right, that he panicked last night. But he knows it doesn’t matter, the outcome has always been inevitable. And maybe he’s misinterpreted Patrick’s friendliness for something else, the same way he has so often in the past. The kilometers creep along, each one bringing him that much closer to putting the past few days behind him. 

After an eternity, he pulls up in front of Patrick’s building. He turns off the car and puts his hands back on the steering wheel, gripping the leather at ten and two.

“Why did you come?” His voice cracks on the words and he stares straight ahead. 

“David...I…” Patrick takes a deep breath. “That night we met, in the bar? I wanted to ask you out. I was trying to get up the courage even though I knew that David Rose would never go out with a guy like me.” 

“That’s not true.” His protest is weak. It’s probably true, he thinks. He wouldn’t have given someone like Patrick the time of day.

“And then everything happened with Elliott and I thought there was at least a chance to get to know you, even if it was pretend, maybe, I don’t know, it would be like one of your rom coms. And I know I should have told you that it wasn’t fake for me, but every day it was harder and harder to give up the fantasy.” 

“I want to trust you.” It hurts to say the words. Deep inside, everything is knotted together. 

Patrick is quiet for a long moment. “I can’t force you to trust me. But all those other people you’ve dated? I would never do to you what they did.”

“Why are you so fucking nice to me?” He wants to hear Patrick say what he thinks he remembers. 

Patrick doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches into the bag at his feet and pulls out an object wrapped in tissue paper.

“I wanted to give you this for your birthday but I chickened out and gave you the bracelet instead.” He hands the package to David as he gets out of the car and opens the back door to get his suitcase. “Goodbye David.” He closes the door with a gentle thud and just like that he’s gone.

David stares at the parcel and unwraps the paper. Inside is a picture frame, he flips it over, it’s the receipt from the bar where he and Patrick met, from the drinks Patrick had bought them that night. Through the glass he can see the crease from where Patrick has kept it in his wallet. He stares at the receipt, his thoughts whirling. Images from the past few days move through his mind. Patrick’s face when David kissed him. Patrick playing the piano as his mom sings. Patrick laughing as he hands him a cracker covered in goat cheese.

He looks back towards the building. Patrick is entering the code for the door, suitcase beside him as he punches in the numbers. Frantically, David opens the car door and tries to get out of his seat, but the seat belt pulls him back. He fumbles with the latch, his fingers clumsy as they slide uselessly across the button, finally he presses the release and the seat belt retracts. He thrusts the door open, it rebounds back on him, hitting him in the thigh. He’ll have a bruise tomorrow but he doesn’t care.

“Wait.” The apartment building door is closing behind Patrick. He runs toward the building as the door slips completely shut. “Wait.”

The door is closed when he gets there. Through the glass he can see Patrick standing at the elevator. He pulls on the handle and knocks on the glass but the sound is lost in the noise of the elevator doors opening. He turns away. He’s left his phone in the car, maybe he can text Patrick. He steps towards his car as behind him the door to the building opens.

“David?”

Patrick is standing in the doorway holding the door open. David takes two steps and wraps his arms around him, kissing him like he hasn’t seen him in months. The door pushes against them as the weight of their bodies holds it open. Everything is Patrick, the feel of his lips chasing after his, his hands tightening on David’s back, the press of the full length of Patrick’s body against his own. There’s a soft cough behind them. He pulls himself away from the kiss and turns to find an elderly woman standing behind him.

“You shouldn’t do that here.” He’s about to tell her that he’ll kiss Patrick wherever he pleases when he sees the twinkle in her eye. “You’re blocking the doorway.”

“Sorry Mrs Henderson.” Patrick sounds sheepish and he pulls them to one side so the woman can get through the door. She pats Patrick on the arm on her way past.

“That’s okay, dear. You should kiss your young man again. He looks like he needs it.” She chuckles to herself as she walks slowly towards the elevators.

“David.” Patrick’s voice is low. “I…”

“No.” A cautious look crosses Patrick’s face as David cuts him off, but he has everything he needs, he doesn’t want to talk now. “You heard what she said.”

And Patrick grins at him, wide and bright, as he steps forward to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the bit of angst in this final chapter, but we all know that David would be in his head as soon as things turned real. Thanks to everyone for reading and making such lovely comments along the way.


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